Of the Aberration of a Hobbit
by Frodo Silverlune
Summary: A strange sort of despair grabs Frodo in Minas Tirith, much to the dismay of his helpless friends. But is it something or someone pitting Frodo against Sam in a desperate quest for understanding and forgiveness?
1. Minas Tirith

Chapter 1  
  
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Lord of the Rings, or Frodo, or Sam, or anybody else in the books. I don't wish I did either, because it's too much trouble, with all the copyright stuff and formalities and all that junk. It's not easy, being a writer! Poor Tolkien..poor Rowling..poor all of the famous people. When you write a bestseller, say goodbye to private life. Enough rambling.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Sam crept quietly into the room where his master lay sleeping. 'How can mister Frodo lay in bed so long on such a fine day?' he thought to himself, shaking his head. He padded noiselessly arcorss the stone floor and threw open the silk curtains, flooding the room with bright spring sunshine. The figure in the bed groaned and rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.  
  
"Come on, Mister Frodo!" said Sam in a cheerful voice, poking the fluffy pillow with his finger. "Time to get up!"  
  
"Oohhh," was the only response, and Sam pulled up a corner and peeked underneath. Meeting his eyes was a dark brown mess of tangled curls half covering Frodo's sleepy face.  
  
"Ow!" he cried as the light met his unaccustomed eyes. "Sam, just a few more minutes!"  
  
"Sorry sir," he apologized, "but your breakfast is getting cold. And it's such a beautiful day today."  
  
Frodo sat up suddenly at the mention of breakfast, throwing the covers off and hoping to the floor.  
  
"Drat," he complained. "These beds are so high. Hobbits unfortunately were unexpected in Minas Tirith. How do you fare?"  
  
"Oh, I'm fine, sir," Sam blushed. "Do you remember that I'm sharing a room with Mister Pippin?"  
  
"Oh, of course, of course," Frodo said, slapping his forehead. "Now I remember. Did you say something about breakfast?"  
  
"Yes I did," Sam announced cherrily. "And you have company too."  
  
"Who is it?" inquired Frodo suspiciously while pulling on a clean shirt.  
  
Sam laughed as he prepared to answer, but there was no need. The door burst open as two hobbits strode into the room, quite content it seemed with their intrusion.  
  
"Good morning, sleepyhead," teased Merry. "We've become weary of eating with the Big Folk, so we decided to join you today."  
  
"Why, don't you have duties, Pippin?" Frodo asked, concerned that his cousin should abandon his responsibilities to eat with his friends.  
  
"I do," he replied, "Later. But now, we eat!" He rubbed his hands together in delight as Sam brought a tray steaming with food into the room. Pippin left his cousins to help Sam bring in the utensils, and Frodo exclaimed to Merry  
  
"How does he have so much energy? He's only been up and about for a week, and yet he bounces around as though a river of wine flowed through him!"  
  
Merry shrugged, his attention not on the question, but on the meal at hand. His cravings were well satisfied as the hobbits ate, speaking of small matters of unimportance; mostly compliments concerning the food. Pippin was in the midst of enjoying an unusually delicious sausage when a sudden feeling of dread came over him. He looked up in surprise at Merry, and noticed his cousin staring with alarm at Frodo. Pippin's young eyes opened wide in confusion and surprise.  
  
"Frodo." he began, but his voiced concern was cut off sharply, as though someone had snatched them from the air.  
  
"I've failed." The words shot icely into the morning air, handing suspended over the forgotten meal as Frodo slowly rose from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor.  
  
"I've failed," he said again, utter despair flooded over his twisted face. He staggered backwards, and Sam suddenly leapt to his aid.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Frodo cried, his eyes wide with terror and vehmenence.  
  
"Mister Frodo." whispered Sam, as his master went mad before his very eyes.  
  
"The world will fall. They took it. I failed in the quest." His eyes seemed to see things far away, as though reaching beyond the cold walls of the room into the very heart of the dark land. His eyes rolled far back in his head and he fell to the floor.  
  
Merry and Pippin woke suddenly from their stupor and raced to his side. Sam was already checking the vital signs.  
  
"Cold water, Pippin," commanded Merry with a stern voice, and Pippin grabbed a goblet of water left from their meal and handed it to his cousin, shaking.  
  
"Is he.dead?"  
  
"No," announced Sam finally, confidently, but with an unsteady voice. Frodo suddenly stirred and opened his eyes.  
  
"Wh.what happened?" he gasped.  
  
"You.I.don't know," admitted Merry, helping him sit up. "You jumped up and said you had failed in the quest, three times."  
  
"I did? Why on earth would I say a thing like that?" He seemed puzzled and confused, as though he hadn't had the slightest idea of what he had done.  
  
"Yes, you did. You seemed to go mad!"  
  
"Mad?!"  
  
Sam helped Frodo to his feet, and Merry said  
  
"Let's take you into the sunshine, Frodo. Perhaps you need some fresh air."  
  
"Yes, maybe I do. Are you sure I said those things? All I remember is waking up on the floor."  
  
Pippin nodded solemnly, and Frodo seemed embarrassed.  
  
"Don't tell anybody, will you?" he stammered. "It's rather, humiliating. If I can help it, it shan't happen again."  
  
"I sure hope it won't," muttered Sam under his breath as he led his master into the bright gardens. Suddenly though, a cloud covered the sun and all was dark and ominous in the courtyard. The flowers hid their faces and the leaves seemed to turn over in a slight wind breathing through the place. But the moment passed and the sun returned, and all was light and cheery once more. Sam, however, thought it a bad omen, but kept it to himself and said not a word.  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	2. In the Garden

Chapter 2 - In the Garden (Of the Aberration of a Hobbit)  
  
Disclaimer: As I said before, I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
Last time: The hobbits were eating breakfast when suddenly Frodo had an 'attack,' as they called it. Sam is getting suspicious, but why?  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
"Hello, Frodo." Frodo turned around and the smiling face of Aragorn greeted him in the lazy afternoon shade.  
  
"Well, hello Aragorn," he returned merrily. "Won't you join Sam and I?" he motioned to a vacant seat on the bench and his friend sat beside them with a sigh.  
  
"It's rather warm, is it not?" the King asked, and Sam nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"Yes, it is, sir. Back home in the Shire it ain't as hot in April as it is here."  
  
"Well, you see Sam, it's because we're further south than what you are accustomed to, so naturally, it's warmer. However we do seem to be having a hot spell." He tugged at the collar of his jerkin in vain and let out a steady stream of air.  
  
"Have you enjoyed your stay here?" he inquired.  
  
"Yes, very much so," replied Frodo. "But I'm afraid everything is rather on the large side." He smiled, and Aragorn found himself laughing.  
  
"What do we have here?" came a pleasant voice behind them.  
  
"Good afternoon, Gandalf," greeted Aragorn. "What brings you out to the gardens this time of day?"  
  
"I might ask the same of you, sir," answered the wizard with a twinkle in his eye. "Do tell me you find your duties as king interesting enough."  
  
"Interesting indeed, but rather tiresome," he sighed. "I came here to catch a breath of air and by chance met with two wise hobbits, who had the same idea, it seems."  
  
Sam's thoughts trailed off while the three chatted jovially. 'The roses here are fabulous, just look at the colors,' he found himself thinking in true Gamgee fashion. 'They must water them twice a day, with the heat as it is.' His cotton shirt stuck to his skin and although it was cooler in the shade, absence of direct sunlight did naught to deter the heaviness of air. 'Muggy, that's what my Gaffer'd call it,' he thought, glancing at Frodo. The heat didn't seem to be causing him any trouble. He was as cheerful and carefree as he had been in the Shire, so long ago. The 'attack' from last week didn't seem to bother him anymore, yet there was something lingering in Sam's mind. A hint, a whisper of foreboding that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it wasn't true.  
  
"Isn't that right, Sam?" Frodo's voice suddenly brought him back to the garden. He blushed and asked his master to repeat the question. Frodo sighed.  
  
"Never mind, it wasn't such an important question."  
  
"Sorry," Sam mumbled, digging in the soft dirt with his toe. A sudden gasp made him jerk his head up in surprise. 'No, not again,' he panicked.  
  
It was happening again.  
  
"I've failed," came Frodo's voice, as terrible and dark as before. Gandalf's face was full of concern. This couldn't be Frodo, not the light- hearted hobbit he had been chatting with a moment ago. The wizard knew something was wrong.  
  
"Frodo, come out of it," he commanded, and the reaction surprised all three. Frodo leapt from the bench and charged straight into Gandalf, fury blazing from his blue eyes.  
  
"You can't have me!" he shouted as his head plowed into Gandlaf's stomach. The wizard remained undaunted, and held Frodo by the shoulders at arms length while the hobbit struggled and fought.  
  
"NO!" he screamed, and wrenched himself from Gandalf's grasp. He turned to run but his toe caught on a loose paving stone in the pathway and he sprawled headlong.  
  
"Mister Frodo!" cried Sam, but before he could rush to his aid Frodo had leapt up and was making for the wall surrounding the garden. His three friends gave chase and before Frodo was halfway up Aragorn caught him by the heel and yanked him down, catching him as he fell.  
  
"NO!" Frodo screamed again, and brought his nails raking across Aragorn's face. Surprised, he let go, dropping Frodo to the ground. The hobbit rolled in the dust and lay still.  
  
It wasn't a moment until he was revived, and his reaction was much the same as before. But now there was no denying the red marks scrawled across Aragorn's hurt face.  
  
"I'm sorry," apologized Frodo sincerely, when he learned what he had done. "I don't know, I really.I'm sorry," and he ran back into the palace, fighting the tears of shame threatening to cross the boundary of his eyelids. What was wrong with him? He couldn't remember a thing. One minute he had been talking to Gandalf, the next he was laying in the dust by the wall with a sore toe and back. He couldn't understand.  
  
"What's wrong with me?" he asked out loud, as he reached the safe haven of his room. He studied his face in the mirror. It didn't look any different. Just a little dirtier. He noticed a few tears had escaped and he hurriedly washed his face. Not a moment too soon, for Sam came running into the room, out of breath and worried.  
  
"Are you hurt?" he puffed.  
  
"No, Sam," Frodo sighed. "I don't understand. I don't feel sick at all. I didn't try to hurt Aragorn, I really didn't."  
  
He sat down on a chair, his feet dangling above the floor, and buried his face in his hands. Sam came over and put an arm around him.  
  
"I know you didn't, Frodo," he comforted. "We'll try to get to the bottom of this."  
  
~~To be continued!~~ 


	3. Three Days

Chapter 3 - Three Days Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: No I don't own Lord of the Rings, or anything associated with it.  
  
Last Time: Frodo, Sam, Aragorn, and Gandalf were in the garden when Frodo had an attack, in which he injured Aragorn. Now Sam has vowed to try to find out what's going on.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Gandalf sat silently brooding and smoking his pipe as he watched Aragorn delicately spread ointment over the scratches on his face.  
  
"Has Frodo ever acted this way before?" asked Aragorn, although he knew the answer.  
  
"Never."  
  
Silence ensued until Aragorn finished his treatment. He turned to find the wizard's brows furrowed in concern. Even on the battlefield he had never seen Gandalf look so worried.  
  
"I shall speak with Sam," he finally decided, and rose, his white robes swishing behind him as he exited the Houses of Healing.  
  
~*~  
  
"Well, sir, to tell the truth, he has acted that way before," stammered Sam, and Gandalf's eyebrows shot up in surprise.  
  
"Not in the Shire, of course," he hurried to put in, "but here, about a week ago." He proceeded to relate to Gandalf the incident at breakfast, all the while the lines on the wizard's face growing ever deeper.  
  
"I don't know what to do, sir," he confessed at last. "He didn't show any signs of..madness.until it happened. He doesn't know what happens either. One minute he's doin' one thing, the next minute he's lyin' on the floor. Or at least, that's what he says, sir."  
  
"Hmmm," mused Gandalf. "This is very strange. I had the encounter with Theoden, but that was obvious Saruman was involved. Here." he trailed off and sighed. "We shall see, Sam. If he has any more 'attacks,' shall we say, inform me at once!"  
  
"Yes, sir," said Sam, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
  
~*~  
  
A few days later, the banqueting hall was filled with crowds, noise, and food. The people of Gondor were celebrating a holiday of some sort, but Pippin didn't need to know what it was to know what would be there. Now, he stood impatiently beside the door to wait for the King to arrive. Sometimes it was hard, waiting on someone while one's own stomach growled with hunger, but he could manage. He didn't regret his decision one bit. Being a knight was fun.  
  
"Behold the King!" Came the shout, and the King entered, followed by his guests and other attendants. Pippin tapped his foot impatiently, glancing down the table with a slight bit of envy. Lucky Frodo! He got to have somebody wait on him. 'Humph,' he thought to himself, eyeing Sam standing behind him with understanding. 'Frodo wouldn't last one day having to wait on somebody himself. He doesn't know how.' Thinking that gave Pippin a feeling of superiority, and he waited on the King with a half-smile forming about the corners of his lips.  
  
~  
  
Beside Frodo, Merry saw the all too familiar look of mischief on Pippin's face. When he caught his cousin's eye, he gave him a well-known look that clearly said  
  
"Behave yourself."  
  
Pippin stuck his tongue out at him and turned back to his duties. Merry could be so touchy sometimes!  
  
Merry sighed and turned back to his dinner. His lord wasn't here today, so he was able to dine with the rest of the hall. It was a pleasant change from the long period of standing. 'How does Sam manage it?' he wondered to himself. Frodo didn't require Sam to wait upon him, but Sam insisted. 'I think he likes it,' thought Merry, noting the look of contentment on Sam's face as he refilled his master's wine glass. He shook his head in wonder and took a piece of bread from the basket in front of him. It never made it to his lips though, as his eyes opened wide in astonishment and terror. Sam's face bore the same; it was happening again.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo sat at the table listening politely to an elf relating to him a long family line. He thought hobbit lines long, but this! Of course, thousands of years of relatives does take a while, but he had no idea! He shook his head in wonder, and suddenly he began to feel nauseated. His head spun violently. and then he was lying on the floor, in a corner of his chamber.  
  
He sat up in surprise, and a wave of dizziness caused him to sink to the floor again. What happened? He felt so awful. Every part of his body ached, and he was so hungry! And tired..so, so tired. He dragged himself to his feet, slower this time, and stumbled to his bed. There, Frodo collapsed with a sigh and fell into a deep sleep.  
  
~  
  
When he awoke, his chamber was darkening. He felt slightly better, but still terrible. He stiffly walked over to his washstand and gasped at his reflection in the mirror. A dark bruised swelled over his left cheekbone, and a nasty scrape raked across his pale forehead. His eyes were ringed in dark circles, and he was so dirty!  
  
"What happened?" he asked aloud, puzzled and confused, then memories began to slowly return. The breakfast, the garden. Both times he had woken up and his friends had told him he had gone mad. But the last place he had been was the dinning hall, and now he was in his chamber. Frodo was so confused.  
  
He glanced out the window at the last pale fingers of red lacing across the horizon. Night was falling, fast. 'Sam,' he thought. 'He'll know what happened.' His feet padded noiselessly across the cold stone floor as he made his way painfully to the door. To his surprise, he found it locked! He pulled on it, and twisted the handle, and jerked it back and forth, but to no use. It was shut fast, and what little strength he had was failing, his patience with it. What was wrong? Where was everybody? Where was Sam?  
  
"Sam!" he called through the door. There was no answer. Even the birds outside seemed to have ceased chirping.  
  
"Hello!" He banged on the door. "Sam!" Silence.  
  
"Help!...Somebody!..Anybody!...... Sam!"  
  
It wasn't working. He slumped against the door in disgust. Why was he locked in his room? Slowly, a new thought began to form in his mind. What if he had gone mad at the banquet, and they had locked him in here it get rid of him? He staggered at the possibility, but he knew it might have happened. Why? What happened?  
  
His head spun with questions, until plain hobbit-sense took over. He wouldn't be able to figure anything out until he had some more rest, that he knew. Perhaps then he would feel better. Once more, he dragged himself to his bed and lay down, remembering to cover himself this time before sweet oblivion drained him of all weariness and pain.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam laid his hand on the latch of the door and cautiously pulled it open. It was still too dark to see anything, but he knew where he had left Frodo. He glided over to the corner by the window and put his hand out into the darkness, expecting to feel a quivering body beneath his fingers. Nothing! He reached until he touched the wall, and groped until he was sure his master was no longer in the corner. 'What if he's hidin' somewhere, waitin' to spring?' he found himself thinking in panic. He whirled around and something on the bed caught his eye. There was a lump under the covers! Could it be.yes! It was! Frodo was in bed, safe and sound, with the covers pulled up over his chin.  
  
Sam felt tears welling up behind his eyes. His master was conscious again, well, not right now, he thought with a smile, but at least he wasn't mad anymore. The past three days he had been hanging onto the hope with desperation and now, his wishes were finally granted. 'They'll be wantin' to know!' he remembered, and raced off to find Gandalf.  
  
~  
  
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Frodo awoke to find Gandalf sitting beside his bed. His mind flew back to Rivendell, where he had awoken after the incident with the Ring Wraiths, and it took him a while to remember everything.  
  
"Hello, Gandalf," he said, sitting up. "I would like to know what has been going on. Why was I locked in my chamber? Why was no one around when I called for help?"  
  
"Slow down, Frodo," was his only response. "You've had a busy three days."  
  
"Three days?! Three.what is the meaning of this?"  
  
Gandalf sighed and lit his pipe. "I suppose you shall learn of it from someone, so it had better be from me, while no one else is around."  
  
"Where's Sam?"  
  
"I sent him to fetch you breakfast, knowing you would be hungry."  
  
"Well, I am, but tell me! What happened?"  
  
"You went mad," he said simply. "You insisted on being locked in a prison cell, but I thought it best to bring you here instead."  
  
"A prison cell?" Frodo asked in astonishment, and Gandalf nodded.  
  
"You seemed to think you had failed, and were of no use to anybody. 'Kill me!' you repeated countless times. 'I don't deserve to live!' You upset Sam quite a bit."  
  
"I.said those things?" asked Frodo in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Yes, you did. But that's not all. You."  
  
A knock interrupted his thoughts and Sam came shyly into the room, tray in hand.  
  
"Sam!" cried Frodo, jumping out of bed. Sam recoiled, fear on his face, and Frodo backed away. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I was afraid you would.I mean, it's good to see you up sir!" He set the tray down on a small table and backed out of the room, taking one last peek before shutting the door.  
  
"What's the matter with Sam?" Frodo asked the wizard as he opened the lids on the tray.  
  
"He's still rather cautious around you," he answered, "considering how you chased him around the banquet hall."  
  
"I did what?"  
  
"You leapt from your seat and chased Sam around the hall, begging him to show you the way out. You gave us all quite a scare. I had no idea hobbits could run so fast, nonetheless, Sam. I doubt whether he ran faster in Moria when all the orcs were after us!"  
  
"Oh, poor Sam." trailed off Frodo, remorse flooding his face. "I didn't mean to.surely I didn't. Will he let me apologize?"  
  
"Ask him."  
  
Frodo sat down and ate his meal in silence. The imagined images of what he had unconsciously done ran surprisingly clear through his head. The food turned to sawdust in his mouth as he dwelled on what he had done.  
  
"Was there," dare he ask? "Anything else?"  
  
Gandalf sighed as he answered. "Yes, there was. After you chased Sam, we had to have the guards hold you so we could bring you here. You put up quite a fight on the way, and bashed your head against a doorframe. If you hadn't noticed, there's a very prominent bruise on your cheekbone."  
  
"I noticed," Frodo groaned. "Go on."  
  
"That kept you quiet for a while, until we brought you here. As soon as you were released you hid in the corner and refused to move for three days. When one of the guards tried to move you, you kicked him hard in a certain area and no one dared go near you again. Except Sam."  
  
Frodo nodded in shame and understanding.  
  
"You refused to eat anything or sleep. We had to lock the door for fear you would hurt someone if you were roaming about."  
  
"I understand." Frodo hung his head in humiliation and sighed. "I didn't know what I was doing," he said. "I was in the hall, then I was here. I have no memory of the time in between, and I certainly had no control over my actions."  
  
"We realized that," said the wizard sadly. 'That's another reason why we locked the door. Madmen.er, hobbits, on the loose is the last thing we want. Now," he said briskly, "is there anything you want, Frodo? Say, a bath, to take a walk."  
  
"A bath sounds nice," replied Frodo, "but first I would like to find Sam. Where is he?"  
  
"Right here, mister Frodo," replied a meek voice at the doorway, and Sam's curly, cautious head poked in.  
  
"Sam, I would like to apologize and say I'm sorry for chasing you around the hall," Frodo stammered. "I didn't know what I was doing, and if I can help it, it won't happen again. I'm sorry."  
  
Sam nodded and said "It's all right, sir. But I'll say I've never run so fast in my entire life." He smiled, and Frodo smiled back for the first time in three days.  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	4. The Last Straw

Chapter 4 The Last Straw Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Blue Jedi Hobbit 009: Yeah, I suppose everyone would like to be a best selling author. I would like to, but it's so rare it probably won't happen. I'm changing the genre to general, because it is. It's hard to wibble it down to one, or two. Yes, this is a post-quest drama thing. I always wondered why Frodo hadn't been more affected by the quest. You would think after a year of running for your life into certain death, it would do something.  
  
Coolio02: Thanks for reviewing!! . I don't know how many chapters there will be, but there's at least seven or eight more coming, probably more. Most likely more. Definitely more. Me bad estimator. *blush*  
  
endymion2: I don't know. What is next? That's my question too. But I guess there's more, cause here's another chapter. J/K, I have it planned out. This is only the beginning. It's been tame, really, compared to what's coming. When someone goes mad, anything can happen!! Stay tuned!  
  
Last time: Frodo had a very long attack during a banquet, one that lasted three days. He scared his friends. He scared himself.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Pippin leaned against the stone archway and yawned. The city was sleeping during the hottest part of the long day, and he felt he should be doing likewise. If only he had some form of entertainment. Where was Merry? He was probably eating, or lying in the shade right now, or perhaps talking to his friends. The lucky hobbit. Pippin sighed. Why had he been given duty now, of all times? His tired eyes traveled down the deserted street for the umpteenth time, sweeping here and there into the furthest corners and deepest doorways. Nothing. Not a soul was foolish enough to be stirring. Ach, it was hot!  
  
"Pippin!"  
  
Pippin recognized the voice without turning around.  
  
"Hello, Merry," he replied enthusiastically, grateful for the company. "Come to visit me?"  
  
Merry nodded, and reached into his breeches pocket.  
  
"I brought this for you," he said as he pulled out a hunk of bread and a small square of cheese. Pippin received them eagerly.  
  
"Thank you, cousin! Did you come alone?"  
  
"Yes," Merry nodded his head. "Everyone else was busy or too lazy to come." By the last statement he meant Frodo. Pippin understood and nodded. The recent events concerning his cousin were still fresh in his mind.  
  
"So, have there been any more, er, uh,"  
  
"Attacks?" Finished Merry. Pippin nodded solemnly, and Merry sighed.  
  
"Unfortunately so," he said sadly, and Pippin grimaced.  
  
"Have they been as bad as last time?"  
  
"No, wait, what do you mean?"  
  
"Well, have they left Frodo injured?"  
  
"No, but I'm afraid it's much worse than that," Merry sighed. "He's not hurting himself anymore, only the people trying to help him. For example, a guard a few days ago was kicked hard in the shin, and had to have it bandaged. And just yesterday he bit another guard on the wrist, hard enough to draw blood."  
  
Pippin winced again. The attacks were turning out to be more dangerous than he thought. But his cousin wasn't finished.  
  
"Today was the worst. This morning after breakfast he had another attack. When Sam tried to help him, Frodo punched him in the face."  
  
Pippin gasped in surprise.  
  
"He hit SAM?!" Merry nodded grimly.  
  
"He's putting ice on it now. Sam's going to have a very nice black eye. Of course you can imagine how Frodo feels."  
  
"Oh, he must feel simply awful, knowing he did that to Sam," Pippin emphasized, and Merry nodded again.  
  
"Gandalf is very concerned, of course. I heard him tell Sam if Frodo doesn't get any better, he'll go seek help himself."  
  
A sharp clickety clack of horses' hooves on the paving stones behind him brought Pippin jumping smartly back to his post. The sound of deep laughter greeted him in response as Gandalf came riding through the archway, mounted proudly on Shadowfax. However, there was a slight urgency, a quick nervousness to the wizard's movements that told the hobbit something was wrong.  
  
"What is it, Gandalf?" He asked urgently. "Is Frodo worse?"  
  
He nodded gravely.  
  
"I'm riding for a friend of mine," he explained. "He was able to cure anything once, whether it be a bee sting or a lance wound, or a sickness. Perhaps he will be able to help."  
  
Seeing the concerned look on Pippin's face, he said in a gentler voice.  
  
"Fear not, I shan't be gone more than a week. Until I return, let the Men handle Frodo if he has any more fits. I have given them strict instructions. They know what to do. Farwell!"  
  
With a nod to Merry, Gandalf turned back to his mount and Shadowfax leapt away down the silent street, his footfalls sounding even after he had rounded the corner. The two hobbits looked at each other in dismay. Gandalf had been the only one able to handle Frodo, the only one able to 'reason' with him when he was stricken. Now, with him gone, what hope was there of controlling him?  
  
~*~  
  
"No, Frodo, stop that..wait..come back here...ugh.GUARDS!!" Sam's strained voice rang through the halls for the second time that day. His eye throbbed where Frodo's maddened fist had struck earlier, and his breath came in gasps from trying to catch his master. He had had enough of this. The guards arrived in the doorway, grimacing, perceiving their obvious duty.  
  
"Please!" Moaned Frodo crouching in agony on the floor. "Don't take me!"  
  
Sam only nodded to the guards, wiping his hand across his brow.  
  
"He needs to be locked up," he complained in exasperation, only half meaning what he said.  
  
"Yes!" shouted Frodo, bounding up from the floor. "Lock me away! I failed, I deserve no better."  
  
"Very well," said the captain of the guards simply. He too was fed up with the constant madness. What did the old wizard know about handling a mad man, or hobbit? Ignoring Gandalf's stern advice, the captain proclaimed loudly  
  
"To the dungeon with him, until he recovers."  
  
"What?" gasped Sam in surprise, and then as he thought, frustration changed his mind. "Yes, he's been asking for the dungeon, so he might as well go there! Perhaps it would help. At least it would give me a break from this infernal madness."  
  
"Aye, it would," answered the captain, eyeing Sam's injury with sympathy. "Away with him."  
  
The guards grasped Frodo firmly by the shoulders and hauled him protesting from the floor, tying his arms behind his back securely but not painfully tight. A slow trickle of nervous doubt began to seep into Sam's hesitant mind, but it was too late now. As the guards took Frodo from the room he gave one last frantic call  
  
"Sam! Help me!"  
  
The words rang out clear in the afternoon sir, burning into Sam's conscious and leaving a searing mark of guilt. But the noises faded down the hall and Frodo was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
"NO! Please don't take me! I'll do anything! Let me go! Pleeease!" The captain halted the company and with a sigh of annoyance approached the reluctant prisoner. The hobbit slowly raised his head and his anxious, nervous face looked frantically up at the captain, blue eyes stinging with fear.  
  
"Now, don't worry," the captain soothed. "We're taking you someplace where you can."  
  
His words were cut short by and sudden lashing out of the prisoner, a sudden violence almost succeeding in wrenching himself away.  
  
"Sam!!" Frodo screamed, and the captain shook him hard.  
  
"Be quiet!" he almost yelled. "We're trying to help you! Now, you can come along quietly or come along the hard way."  
  
Frodo ceased his struggling and hung his head limply. The captain nodded to the guards and continued taking the prisoner down many flights of steps, passing by the kitchens, the food cellar, and the armory before at last reaching their place of destination.  
  
"A prisoner?" questioned the Keeper in the dungeon, raising one eyebrow suspiciously.  
  
"No," answered the captain. "He's mad. He continues to insist he be taken here, so perhaps it would help."  
  
"Hmm, is he one of those, uh, hobbits?"  
  
The captain nodded in the affirmative.  
  
"Very well, this way. I have just the cell for him."  
  
The guards hauled Frodo after the Keeper, who led them to a spacious, roomy cell obviously reserved for more noble prisoners. He unlocked the heavy wooden door and swung it open upon creaky hinges. The guards severed Frodo's bonds and placed him gently inside. The Keeper shut the door finally and locked it.  
  
"Well, there you are," he said. "How shall I have him fed?"  
  
"Feed him well. Such food as is served to the Ringbearer. No prison food." The captain laughed. "I'm warning you, these hobbits eat a lot. I'll come for him tomorrow, if he's settled down by then."  
  
The Keeper of the Keys stared at the captain through narrow cat-like slits of eyes.  
  
"The Ringbearer?" he mused suspiciously. "Is this the Ringbearer?"  
  
The captain nodded again, and the Keeper's eyes darted nervously towards the cell door.  
  
"He's mad, then?" Upon receiving the response, he shook his head in sympathy. "It's a pity. A terrible shame. But I'll make sure he has as pleasant a time as I can provide."  
  
"Oh there's no need to waste your efforts," the captain waved off. "He won't accept them, no matter how helpful or sympathetic your intentions. You'll see."  
  
With a harsh word of command to his company, the captain was off, leaving the Keeper still staring in wonder at the door to Frodo's cell. 


	5. The Dungeon

Chapter 5 The Dungeons Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
This chapter rated PG for action and madness  
  
**Note: To all my reviewers, thanks! The more reviews I get, the faster I post more chapters. I write ahead of schedule, and I'm only waiting for reviews so I can answer them when I add a chapter!! So review and read more!  
  
crazytook: Thanks for reviewing!! I couldn't decide how to rate this, since it is very tragic, yet at the same time it has other genres too. I'm glad you like it!! Yes, poor Sam. But you haven't seen anything yet!! Hee hee, and they talk about Gollum having two sides.I think it's because no one cares enough about Sam to write about him more often. He's sucha wonderful character, but he definitely has two sides.you'll see!! Keep posted.  
  
lily(): You have Cheese Nips?! I was eating Sponge Bob Cheese Nips while writing this. Hee hee, psychic! I'm thrilled that you think this is the best mad Frodo story ever! I hope you like tragedy.but don't worry, I'm not like Hollywood. Enjoy.  
  
Iorhael: Thanks for your review! Poor Frodo, but poor Sam! I'm going to try to update every week, but if I'm late, don't stress. This is the longest (and saddest) chapter so far, and I hope to make them all this long. By the way, I love A Brandybuck turns Baggins.  
  
Last Time: Gandalf left to find a cure for Frodo, and Frodo was put into a dungeon cell.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
A harsh knock sounded hollow on the thick wooden door of Frodo's cell, resounding with a deep, mocking voice. Frodo raised his head painfully and beheld the Keeper's dark silhouette outlined starkly against the pale yellow light flooding the narrow space behind him.  
  
"Your breakfast's here," he said dutifully, and setting down a small tray, slammed the door shut behind him, jingling the keys in the lock. Frodo glared after him with hate. He had been in this prison cell for nearly four days now, and the only company he had had was the bleak, emotionless Keeper. What troubled him the most, he thought as he set to his meager meal with a ferocity, was the fact that he couldn't remember anything of being brought here. The only images filling his tormented mind were the ghastly faces of orcs leering at him in Cirith Ungol. Terrible, merciless orcs with wrinkled, hardened faces and slanted snakes' eyes. No memory of the Shire remained, or of his friends, or Sam, or elves, or anything beautiful and good. Only orcs, and the Keeper.  
  
Frodo coughed and shuddered in the morning chill. No patch of welcome sunlight decorated the straw-strewn floor today, and he shook his fist at the clouds daring to cover the comforting sun. He had no idea where he was, but his best guess was he had been taken somewhere in southern Mordor in the keep of a band of traitorous Men, awaiting torture.  
  
Frodo finished his breakfast of hard bread and porridge and slid the tray over to the door to await the Keeper. Then he overturned the privy bucket and placed it upside down underneath the widow. He climbed stiffly on top and grabbed the iron bars of his window, pulling himself up while attempting to catch a glimpse of something, anything that might tell him he wasn't alone in the world. He felt more forsaken than he had ever been in his fifty-one years.  
  
Unfortunately, the cell had been built for Men, and however hard he tried to take a peek out the window, it was to no avail. He slumped down against the stone wall and drew his knees up to his chin. This time, when the Keeper came to take away the plate, he would be ready. He would ask the questions that had been haunting him for days, ever since he came to and found himself in this predicament.  
  
There! The door was opening! Frodo jumped to his feet and before the door was completely open he rushed forward, slamming into the surprised Keeper and rebounding backwards, landing with a thump on his bottom. It hurt terribly, but he wouldn't give up, not this time.  
  
"Where am I?" he shouted hoarsely.  
  
The Keeper only grabbed the tray quickly and backed out of the room. But Frodo anticipated his move and grabbed the Man's ankle, forcing him to jerk backwards.  
  
"Confounded hobbit!" he yelled angrily as he tried to shake free, finding this prisoner more persistent than most.  
  
"Where am I? Answer me!" Frodo demanded again as he fought to hold on. Suddenly, a new thought dawned on him. The door! It was still open! He let go of the Man's ankle and bolted for freedom. He was through the door! Frodo ran furiously down the narrow passage, his purser only three feet behind.  
  
He bounded up the steps and dashed around a corner, only to run full into something soft and hard at the same time. He fell backwards yet again, harder this time from the velocity of his speed and winding himself on the floor. Helpless, he felt hands of iron haul him to his feet and drag him back down the steps and into his cell.  
  
"No, please!" He begged, his urgent cries falling on deaf ears. He watched in dismay as a guard produced shackles and chained his feet together, running the iron rope through a prominent ring in his cell wall.  
  
"No!"  
  
Frodo jumped to his feet as soon as he was released and tried to follow them out of his cell, but the short chain prevented him from moving more than four feet.  
  
"Wait!" he shouted, but they were gone. He slumped to the floor, chains clanking mockingly and sobbed himself to sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam wandered aimlessly thorough the halls of the palace, hoping to find someone who would tell him where his master was being kept. He had already asked two servants and a page, but no one seemed to know. He turned a corner and saw two guards chatting jovially about something. They must know something!  
  
"Excuse me," he asked politely and a little bashfully. They jumped and spun around, smiling.  
  
"What is it, little master?" A kind-faced man asked cheerily.  
  
"I'm looking for the dungeons, and I would hope one of you could direct me there," he ventured. They looked at each other, the merriment vanishing from their faces.  
  
"Do you know there's someone mad down there?" The kind one asked seriously. Sam nodded.  
  
"I must see him. He's my friend and master, and I have to know whether he's doin' all right. It's been eight days now, and I've been looking for him all this time."  
  
"Very well," the guard consented. "We'll show you where they are."  
  
"Thank you, sirs," breathed Sam in relief and followed them down the long hall.  
  
~*~  
  
The day before, Frodo had awoken to find the sun glaring in his tired eyes. Of course it had to wait until now, the hottest part of the day, to come out, he thought grumpily as he shifted himself out of its terribly bright path. As he did so, full memory of his attempted escape came back to him and he stared gloomily at the bands of iron encircling his ankles, hardly two feet of chain in between.  
  
'At least they weren't orcs,' he thought to himself, remembering the men he had run into earlier. Suddenly, a noise came shouting down the hall, ringing out starkly against the still prison air. It was the clanking of more chains.  
  
'Have they brought another prisoner?' Frodo wondered, but the thought was chased quickly away as the familiar sound of keys turning in the lock echoed throughout his enclosure. They were coming for him, it was finally happening. He was to be tortured. Horrible imaginings ran through his mind as he was released from the wall, but still left chained. A guard chained his hands together in a kind of fused together bond, with one iron cuff resting on top of another so his hands were in a criss-cross position. He then threaded a chain between him and pulled Frodo out of the cell as if he was an animal at market.  
  
Frodo found himself in the midst of a six-man company as he was escorted further into the depths of the earth. The darkening passage led always down and to the left, until it reached a sort of long hallway ending in a flight of stairs going upwards. From then on, their path went up and to the left.  
  
"Where am I going?" Frodo asked more than once, but each time he was met with a rebuke or silence. He finally gave up, deciding he didn't want to know where he was going anyways, and plodded on, nearly trotting to keep up with the long legs of his captors.  
  
Finally when he thought his knees could bend no longer and despair was creeping into his darkened mind, a bright light shining through a decorated doorway greeted them at the end of the longest hall. Frodo suddenly felt his courage give way, and he stumbled from a wave of dizziness clouding his mind. He dared not approach the doorway. Some hidden, waiting menace lurked inside, such as he had not felt since the tunnel in the Pass. If he passed though the doorway, he would be tortured beyond endurance. He would give away everything.  
  
"Please," he begged. "Don't take me there! Don't take me there!"  
  
But the guards only grunted and moved on, dragging him onwards towards the light. He was almost there.the brightness was overwhelming.he shut his eyes, stumbled forward, and fell through the doorway into the light. He had a short vision of a figure all robed in white; it was from it that the light came. Frodo groaned and shut his eyes, falling forward into oblivion and certain death.  
  
~*~  
  
It continued in this manner for endless days. Frodo would wake, eat his breakfast, and the guards would take him away, to be tortured. He never remembered any of it. Only the light, and the doorway, and then he would be back in his cell, bruised and aching to his bones, with a splitting headache, only to receive his supper and fall into a restless sleep, broken numerous times by countless nighttime noises scurrying to and fro, snapping and breaking, creaking and sighing, angry at being disturbed.  
  
Frodo had no idea how many days passed before he began to take ill. Was it a week? A month? He had lost track of time. In actuality, he had only been there eight days when Sam came, escorted by the two guards he had encountered in the hallway. They brought Sam a bench to stand on, so he would be able to peer through the bars in the door, and let him be.  
  
It was a while before Sam was able to see anything in the cell. The darkness was only lit by one blinding ray of sunshine illuminating countless sparks of dust meandering through the spotlight.  
  
"Frodo?" he called softly into the darkness. There was a clanking of chains, and Sam saw a hairy, shackled hobbit's foot fall into the bared square of light on the floor. He watched as the foot became a knee, and the knee a leg, and then a scrape and jingle of chains and suddenly Frodo's hands latched themselves onto the bars of the door.  
  
"Sam? Is that you?" Frodo's dirty, bruised face appeared above the hands, and lit up with recognition.  
  
"SAM!!" he cried joyfully, happy for the first time in days as memory came back to him in a flash.  
  
"Oh Sam, it's you! You've come!" Suddenly his blissful appearance changed to anguish and urgency. "Sam, you must get out of here, before they find you!" he said anxiously. "They mustn't take you too!"  
  
"Oh, but mister Frodo," Sam gasped, startled by his master's horrifying change "They already know I'm here. They."  
  
"No!" Frodo cried. "You must get out! Escape while you have the chance! There's nothing you can do for me!"  
  
"I don't need to escape," Sam tried desperately to explain, but Frodo was insistent.  
  
"Go! Now!"  
  
"But."  
  
"Quick! Sam, please leave!"  
  
"Master..I,"  
  
"Samwise."  
  
Sam started back. He had never heard his master use that tone of voice before, so commanding and authoritative. There was no disobeying that voice. But after waiting so long, he couldn't turn back so soon. It was obvious Frodo thought him in grave danger. Perhaps if he tried to explain.  
  
"Frodo, I don't need to escape. I'm here to visit you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm here to visit you."  
  
"Why?" Frodo asked, his bewildered tone rising from the darkness.  
  
"Because I thought you would be lonely down here, and I wanted to know how you were faring."  
  
"You knew I was in prison?"  
  
Sam nodded, and Frodo's face darkened.  
  
"You knew I was down here, and you didn't.you waited all this time.why didn't you try to help me escape?"  
  
Frodo's question ripped at Sam's heart. His master was accusing him of abandoning him!  
  
"I.I couldn't find you," he stammered truthfully.  
  
"So, you knew I was down here, you knew I was lonely, but you waited this time to find me?"  
  
Sam shifted uncomfortably on the bench.  
  
"I, yes, I did, I didn't mean any harm.."  
  
Frodo's hands suddenly shot out of the bars and gripped Sam by the throat, his face coming full into the light for the first time. It was wild with fury.  
  
"You didn't mean any harm, did you?" Frodo shouted, tightening his grip on Sam. "You let me sit here and be tortured while you enjoyed yourself, did you?"  
  
All Sam could do was nod, half of it was true, and his head was heavy with guilt, but streaked with panic. Frodo was having another fit.  
  
"How could you do that to me?" Tears were running down his face now, tracing white streaks through the black dirt painting his face. He tightened his grip, gritting his teeth as he did so.  
  
"You evil.son of a mongerel dog how could you? Do you have any idea of how I've been suffering? How could you?"  
  
"What's this?" The stern voice of the Keeper rang through the passage. Frodo released his grip instantly, drawing back into the shadows as Sam tumbled to the floor.  
  
"Are you hurt?" The Keeper asked Sam as he helped him sit up.  
  
"No," Sam croaked, rubbing his neck. "Just a little sore."  
  
"Why that." the Keeper mumbled some inaudible words as he fumbled with the lock on the cell door, "To attack you when you came down to visit him, ungrateful wretch."  
  
He opened the door and stepped into the room.  
  
"Hey you," he dragged Frodo into the light angrily and slapped him across the face. Sam heard the sharp crack against flesh and gasped.  
  
"Do you know what you did?" The Keeper pried.  
  
"No," replied Frodo's weak voice, and the Keeper slapped him again.  
  
"Stop that!" shouted Sam, charging to Frodo's defense. "He didn't know what he was doing! He was tryin' to protect me!"  
  
"Protect you?" laughed the Keeper, throwing Frodo to the ground. "He was strangling you!"  
  
"Well, he WAS trying to get me to 'escape while I had the chance.' He must think he's somewhere else."  
  
"Sam?" Frodo's voice was almost a whisper, yet Sam's sensitive ears caught the strained sound and he dropped to his knees beside his master.  
  
"What is it, Frodo?" he asked kindly.  
  
"Did I hurt you?" Frodo asked, and Sam replied untruthfully  
  
"No, not terribly."  
  
"But I did hurt you! I know it! I can see the pain in your eyes." Frodo groaned and sat up stiffly, remorse spread from concerned wrinkles in his forehead to quivering chin. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he stammered. "I didn't mean to, I really didn't."  
  
He dragged himself into a corner and curled up in a ball, chains dragging miserably behind him.  
  
"You don't deserve a mad master like me," he said. "I'm so sorry. You don't have to come back."  
  
Sam was about to reply, but an urgent tug at his elbow from the Keeper reminded him he needed to go before Frodo's fit returned. But he couldn't leave his master like this.  
  
"Goodbye Frodo," he said sadly. "You needn't worry. I'll be back."  
  
Sam left the dungeon slowly, the words Frodo had said ringing in his ears. How could he have left him so long, especially in a dungeon, and in his condition! Why had he done it? Deep down, Sam knew it was because he was mad at Frodo for hitting him, when all he had done was try to help him. Sam felt his private disloyalty burning all over his face. Was he really fit to serve Frodo? Was he a traitor?  
  
'No!' Sam thought. 'I'll show Frodo I'm not a traitor! I'll show him I'm the best friend he could ever want!'  
  
An idea slowly began to take place in his guilty mind, and he hurried to the gardens, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, to think it over.  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	6. Release Him!

Chapter 6 Release Him! Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
This chapter rated PG for action, injuries, and madness  
  
Coolio02: Thanks for reviewing! Yeah, the last chapter was sad, so is this one. See why I rated this story angst at first? This chapter has more action, but don't let the title deceive you plot-wise. Hope you like it!!  
  
Last Time: We experienced the experiences of the inexperienced ringbearer amidst very experienced guards in a dungeon and the surrounding premises. An inexperienced Sam accidentally encountered a mad hobbit, and the experienced keeper saved him. Now, we will find out (if I can get any more annoying) if all these experiences will teach the previously inexperienced some lessons, which SHOULD have been learned from experience! (ode to Captain Jack Sparrow)  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
"Released, you say?" Aragorn's eyebrows shot up in surprise as Sam nodded. "But the reports I have been getting say Frodo's not getting any better. He's gotten worse, they say. Have you heard them?"  
  
"The what, sir?' Sam asked.  
  
"The reports from the Houses of Healing, where Frodo's being taken every day for treatment."  
  
"No, I'm sorry sir, I have not."  
  
"Would it trouble you to hear them?"  
  
Sam shook his head, and the King shifted through the papers on his desk until he found the right ones.  
  
"According to the reports, Frodo goes mad whenever he enters the Houses of Healing. The madness leaves once he returns to his cell. Now, it would seem logical to avoid the Houses to avoid the fits, but he also has fits in his cell, thereby concluding the fits are not limited only to a specific area."  
  
He glanced sadly at Sam.  
  
"I heard you experienced such a fit the other day. Now, tell me. Did he give any sign of madness before he attacked you?"  
  
"No, he didn't," Sam answered.  
  
"He didn't draw up his chin, grab the back of his neck, or clutch at his wrists?"  
  
"No, sir. Is that what he's been doin'?"  
  
Aragorn nodded seriously.  
  
"Yes," he sighed. "Just before he has a fit in the houses, he does one of those three things, so they say. They also say he seems to faint without falling before he goes mad. Yet he didn't show any of those signs before attacking you?"  
  
"No, he didn't, sir," Sam confessed.  
  
"Well, then, I'm sorry to say I can't release him just yet, Samwise. He isn't safe."  
  
"You make him sound like an animal!" Sam burst out angrily. "He's not! He apologized sincerely to me afterwards, and seemed genuinely sorry."  
  
His thoughts traveled back to the event two days ago, and as he recalled them, his resolve hardened. He would have Frodo released as long as his name was Samwise Gamgee. Perhaps bribery would work... 'No, no,' Sam thought to himself. 'What can I bribe him with? He's a King now. Strider has anything he could ever want.'  
  
Sam sighed.  
  
"If he can't be released, then may I go down to him?" Sam swallowed, waiting anxiously for the reply. The King stared sharply at the rash hobbit.  
  
"Why, what would you do that for?" He asked in surprise.  
  
"Because I can help him better if I don't have to spend an hour walking to and from his cell every day."  
  
"But where would YOU stay? Not in his cell!" Aragorn laughed quietly, and Sam's face reddened. He hadn't gone through all this trouble to be laughed at.  
  
"Very well," he said, preparing to leave. "I shall be with Frodo when you change your mind."  
  
Sam turned on his heel and stalked briskly from the room, heading determinedly for the dungeons. Perhaps they would understand.  
  
~*~  
  
A glaring light unfolded through the doorway as the guards entered for him. Frodo shuddered as another chill swept over his sweat-covered body, and he groaned as the guards pulled him from his makeshift bed of straw on the floor. Every bone ached as the room heaved in circles around him. He felt as though he were being pulled up in an arch and then yanked down again, like the time he was rolled down the hill in a barrel at Brandyhall.  
  
"He's awful hot, sir," said one of the guards anxiously to his captain. The commanding officer shrugged it off, unaffected.  
  
"It's this blasted whether," he said decisively, turning his back as Frodo glanced up at him with glassy eyes.  
  
"Come, let's go."  
  
The guards dragged the stumbling hobbit along the familiar passageway, stopping once when he fell to his knees from the dizziness. Frodo thought it would never end, the stone walls leading to stone steps, going down, down, always down.  
  
'Then up,' he thought in dismay as he remembered the equal ascending distance. He hung his head in awful anticipation. As they passed one of the countless passages intersecting their own, a familiar voice met his fever-sensitive ears.  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
He snapped his head up a little too fast, and his vision misted over. He shook his head and it passed, beholding to him the alarmed faces of Merry and Pippin.  
  
"What happened to you?" gasped Pippin as he surveyed his cousin, making Frodo suddenly aware of his torn, dirty clothing and disheveled appearance. He hung his head in shame as he croaked  
  
"I'm sorry..I, tell Sam I'm sorry, for everything..I.."  
  
He caught Merry staring at the chains hanging from his hands and feet, and the iron collar clamped firmly around his neck. He realized what a shock this must be for them, and suddenly wanted to hide. It was his own fault he was here. His suffering was his own. Why need Merry and Pippin see it? He felt his face redden as they continued to gawk at his predicament, speechless.  
  
The captain sighed in impatience and shuffled the company along, leaving Frodo's kin staring in shock at his retreating form.  
  
"Come, Pippin," said Merry, dragging his cousin along behind him. "Let's find Sam. He must know of this atrocity."  
  
~  
  
The guards escorting Frodo had arrived at the doorway to the Houses of Healing, and tightened their grip on the prisoner. They knew as soon as they passed through the doorway he would go mad, trying to wrench himself away. It was their duty to keep him there until a Healer arrived.  
  
Frodo shuddered not from the fever, but from the sight of the ominous doors. As he approached, the light tore into his eyes, searing it's way into his brain where it exploded into a thousand daggers of burning fire. He waited to pass out, but the feeling never came. He was through the doors, and in a room he was sure he had been in before, but never consciously.  
  
It was a spacious room, square, with bright morning sunshine streaming in through many tall, open windows overseeing the bustling city below. Long, gauzy curtains blossomed gracefully on small currants of air drifting lazily through the windows. The room was organized with two long rows of white beds waiting neatly to host a tired patient. Many Healers buzzed too and fro, intent on their tasks, paying no heed to the company passing through.  
  
Frodo stared wide-eyed at the comforting scene. He couldn't be in Mordor. This was too beautiful, and no presiding evil hung in the air, only a feeling of rest and peace.  
  
His musings were brought to a sudden halt, however, when a stern-faced Healer approached them, swinging a small bottle on a chain. Upon seeing Frodo, he stopped and stared at him.  
  
"He's not mad." He said in surprise to the captain, who turned in his turn in gaping at the hobbit.  
  
It was only then that Frodo felt himself about to faint, and the Healer grasped him firmly.  
  
"How do you feel?" he demanded, and Frodo found himself answering  
  
"Heavy, and tired, so..very tired," and he collapsed.  
  
The Healer caught him as he fell and laid him gently on one of the beds. As soon as his head touched the pillow, he sprang from the bed, eyes wild, and bolted for the doorway. He was stopped by a guard (who happened to grab the chain dangling from his neck as he passed) and jerked roughly to the floor.  
  
"NO!" He yelled, scrambling to his feet, and was jerked down again. This time, he was held firmly by the arms as the guards struggled to keep him there.  
  
"I had to say something," the Healer mumbled to himself as he uncorked the bottle. He nodded to one of the guards.  
  
"You know what to do."  
  
"No!" Frodo yelled again, his eyes wide with terror and madness. The guards hauled him over to the bed and four held him down while the others lashed ropes around him, binding him to the bed and securing him tightly so the Healer could administer his medicine without being harmed.  
  
"Please! Don't hurt me! Don't take me!" Frodo pleaded, completely ignored by the others.  
  
"I won't tell you! NO! You can't have it! It's mine!"  
  
"Open his mouth," instructed the Healer, "And let's get this over with."  
  
Frodo's jaws were pried open and the Man poured a spoonful of the medicine into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it.  
  
"Poor thing," he pitied as the guards untied the fighting hobbit and led him from the room.  
  
'If only Mithrandir would return,' he thought to himself, 'Everything would be all right.'  
  
~*~  
  
The Keeper was roused suddenly form his nap by an incessant banging on his office door. He grumbled to himself as he sulkily rose to open it. Three anxious hobbits stood on the threshold, three hobbits who pushed their way rudely into his room and demanded Frodo be set free. His reaction was worse than Aragorn's.  
  
"Why did you disturb me?" he complained angrily. "You must know I can't let anyone out without a signed released from the King."  
  
"Very well," said the one who had been there before. "We'll stay here until he recovers."  
  
"What?"  
  
The hobbit (was his name Sam?) padded across the room and inspected the furniture for a place to sleep.  
  
"This couch looks comfortable," he said cheerily. "I wonder why they don't put these in their cells. Where are you going to sleep, Merry?"  
  
Merry had spied the Keeper's own bed, and darted towards it.  
  
"Hey! Get off of there!" The Keeper yelled, outraged, reaching for Merry. He was suddenly grabbed form behind by the other hobbit, who shouted for help.  
  
"SAM! Help me with him!"  
  
"Get away from me you stinking foreigners!" The Keeper bellowed, but Merry and Pippin had been in more battles than he, and despite their size, overwhelming numbers won out in the end. Sam hit him on the head with an empty bottle while the other two held him, and it was all over.  
  
Pippin shouted for victory and undid the Man's belt; drawing off the ring of keys while Merry tied his hands together.  
  
"We're going to get in so much trouble," laughed Pippin, twirling the large bracelet.  
  
"Stop celebrating and go find a cell for him," commanded Merry sternly. "We haven't got Frodo yet."  
  
A new thought dawned on Sam, and he groaned.  
  
"I can't remember which cell it is!" He agonized, laying down the broken neck of the bottle he still clutched in his hand.  
  
"Well, if we haven't found it by the time he wakes up, we'll ask him," suggested Merry, pointing to the unconscious Keeper with his thumb.  
  
The three hobbits dragged the Keeper into the nearest cell and, after trying more than half the key ring, finally locked it.  
  
"I wish these keys were marked," complained Pippin, eyeing the nearly identical keys with distaste.  
  
"Then give them to an elder." Merry snatched them from Pippin, who tried to take them back but failed and snorted in disgust.  
  
"Very well, I'm going to find Frodo before you do!" He darted off into the labyrinth of passageways in the dungeon, calling Frodo's name loudly. Merry sighed, and motioning to Sam, started after him, more carefully than his cousin.  
  
~  
  
Pippin rounded a corner and stopped suddenly, darting back into the shadows. A company of guards passed by, so close he could have touched them had they known he was there. As they disappeared, he gave a sigh of relief, letting out the last three hours' of frustration with it. He had searched everywhere, but he couldn't seem to find Frodo! His legs ached from trying to jump up high enough to look in the cell door windows, and his patience hung on a very fragile thread.  
  
"Frodo!" He called one more time, and as he expected, silence ran true to its word. Frodo wasn't down this way. He was coming to believe he wasn't in the dungeons at all. As he turned to go find his friends, a sudden sound, so faint only a hobbit or elf could have heard it, came from one of the cells down the hall to his right. He made his way suspiciously towards it, and called once again  
  
"Frodo!"  
  
Nothing. Still, Pippin couldn't give up hope. He had thought it was a groan. He ran back down the hallway, retracing his steps until he found Merry and Sam.  
  
"I think I found him!" Pippin exclaimed excitedly, and ran back to the passage where the guards had passed, two pairs of hobbit feet slapping softly and urgently behind him.  
  
~  
  
Sam's heart leapt to his throat as he ran after Pippin. Suppose he was wrong? What if it wasn't Frodo? What if he had to go back and check all these cells they were passing? He groaned inwardly thinking of the task they had taken upon themselves, and the consequences of their actions.  
  
'Mad or not mad,' Sam thought, 'Frodo shouldn't be kept in that cell, with the horrible Keeper who slaps him.' His face burned in anger as he recalled the scene, bringing extra strength to his legs.  
  
Pippin rounded the corner abruptly and stopped.  
  
"Frodo!" He called out, and Sam had an instant flashback of the tower in Cirith Ungol. He shuddered.  
  
Pippin led them to the cell he had heard the noise come from and motioned for Sam to give him a boost up to the window. Sam let Pippin climb on his shoulders, and held him fast by the ankles as the youngest hobbit latched onto the bars in the door's window and peered inside.  
  
"I can't see a blasted thing," he complained. "We must enter to make sure."  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo heard keys, and strange sounds as though someone was trying the keyhole numerous times, without success. It was very confusing, and he figured it was his mind playing tricks on him. He was too weak to try and figure out what it was. A deadly chill shook him from head to toe, and he wanted to curl into a ball, but he couldn't move. He hadn't moved since the guards had thrown him down, and a sharp stone was sticking into his thigh.  
  
'Useless,' he thought weakly. 'Everything is useless. I can't get away. I can't even move. Why try? Nothing can change where I am.'  
  
Even as he thought this, the door swung open and voices flooded his small cell, calling his name over and again.  
  
~  
  
"Frodo!" Sam gasped in horror as he beheld the forlorn figure of his master lying sprawled on the floor, dirty rags gray in the dim light. His tangled hair hid his face and Sam leapt forward in anguish, kneeling urgently by his friend's unmoving side. He checked his breathing. It was weak and hot, but present.  
  
"He has a fever!" exclaimed Merry upon contact with his burning hand while releasing him from his chains. "We must get him out of here. Come, Sam. Help me lift him."  
  
"Sam? Is that you?" Frodo's hoarse, scratchy voice was barely above a whisper. His glazed eyes searched the darkness until they found the face of Sam.  
  
"You..shouldn't have come." He coughed weakly and Sam found tears coming to his eyes.  
  
"I'm not alone," he said trying to draw the attention away from the unpleasant memories. "I've brought master Merry and master Pippin along. Pippin found you and Merry unlocked the door."  
  
"Yes, we're here, Frodo," came Merry's voice form beside Sam. "We're getting you out of here. Come Sam."  
  
The two grasped a surprisingly light Frodo gently and carried him from the cell all the way to the Keeper's room. There, they rested while Pippin unlocked the Keeper's cell (who was still unconscious) and set his keys beside him.  
  
"Now perhaps our consequences will be more lenient," Pippin said in attempted cheerfulness, but they all knew it would only be hours before their deed would be known everywhere. They started out once more, stopping only once until they reached Frodo's former room.  
  
Here, the light was better and they saw instantly how close Frodo had come to.they dared not utter the word. He was deathly pale (save for where the fever set fire to his delicate skin) bruised, and cut where the shackles had rubbed raw his wrists, ankles, and neck. Pippin ran for water and blankets while the other two put Frodo to bed. The former prisoner was incredibly weak; falling asleep without so much as a sigh once his aching head touched the soft pillow. When Pippin returned with the articles of his venture plus a few extra, Sam and Merry set to work carefully cleaning and bandaging their friend.  
  
Sam sat back once they were finished and shakily lit his pipe, breathing an unsteady sigh of relief. Frodo was free, for the present, but what the outcome of his 'release' would be, nobody knew.  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
**Note: To all my reviewers, thanks! The more reviews I get, the faster I post more chapters. I write ahead of schedule, and I'm only waiting for reviews so I can answer them when I add the next chapter. So review and read more! 


	7. The Razor's Edge

Chapter 7 The Razor's Edge Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer for all forgotten disclaimers: This is a disclaimer! I must deny ownership of Lord of the Rings! No! I will not give in..what?! NOOOOOO MY SPONGE BOB CHEESE NIPS!! Ok ok, I give in. I don't own Lord of the Rings! *bawl cry boo hoo*  
  
This chapter rated PG for illness and suspense (as if the rating would stop anyone from reading it...oh well. It takes up space, and makes this story look longer than it really is!! Mwahahahaha!)  
  
frodolover: Thanks for reviewing! Yes, Merry, Pippin, and Sam are going to be in big  
trouble, but not yet! We still have to find out what happens to Frodo first.  
Don't be scared away by this chapter. Keep reading!  
  
elfitchick: Hee hee, I told you if you reviewed I could write back to you. I know I already told you what happens in this chapter, but I hope it will affect you as much as it should. Tell me if I wrote it dramatically enough.  
  
Sarah: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like this story. Don't be scared away by this chapter. It doesn't end here!  
  
Coolio02: I'm so sorry!! I didn't realize you reviewed on chapter 4 until now!! *sniff sniff* Me bad. I'm glad you like it. Thanks for reviewing so much! Don't get scared away by this chapter. If you thought it was sad before.... Keep reading! I have only one thing to say..ANGST mwahahaha  
  
crazytook: Gee, something's up with my comp. I didn't get your review either until I checked it here. Hmmm, sorry! Thanks for the thoroughness of your review. I like big words. 'subtle' 'looming' BIG words, but they do describe it. Very cool. Sam IS two sided though, he just hasn't shown it yet. But he's not like Gollum and Smeagol. By the way, I LOVE orange soda. Go eating around electronics! *sparkle spark fizz pop snap Oops!*  
  
Last Time: No cute Pirates of the Carribean imitation this time. Frodo took ill and was 'rescued' from the dungeons by his friends. Now what?  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Merry was startled from a deep sleep by an insistent tapping on his shoulder.  
  
"Merry, wake up."  
  
He opened his eyes groggily and found Sam bending gently over him.  
  
"What?" Merry asked, but before Sam could answer he remembered.  
  
"Of course!" he said, slapping his forehead. "I'm sorry, Sam, I was still asleep."  
  
He glanced at his pocket watch and rubbed his tired eyes.  
  
"My goodness," he yawned, glancing through the window at the rosy splashes of sunrise painted in the early morning sky. "I must have slept for hours. How is he?"  
  
The sag of Sam's shoulders told Merry everything, and he anxiously hurried over to Frodo's bedside to see for himself.  
  
"Oh, this is terrible," he moaned, taking in the shallow gasps of air and feverish sweaty face of his cousin. He was definitely worse than last night. Much worse. Merry shook his shoulders.  
  
"We need medicine," he confessed. Originally, he had hopped to revive Frodo without it, but owing to the circumstances, he backed down on his plan.  
  
"How would we get it, sir?" asked Sam. "We can't simply walk into the Houses of Healing saying 'I need medicine' without questions. Then they would insist on his being brought there, and, well, the whole purpose of all this was to get him out."  
  
"I know," said Merry, thinking earnestly. He sighed. "I don't like performing jail breaks, or sneaking around behind people's backs. I just like to read about them. I suppose the only way we could get medicine without questions is to steal it."  
  
"But stealing is wrong," Sam protested.  
  
"I know," interrupted Pippin's voice by their side, who was remembering the many consequences he had undergone after stealing mushrooms. "But it's a question of life or death for Frodo."  
  
That was enough for Sam. If that was what it came down to, he would have to grit his teeth and bear it.  
  
"Very well," he consented. "But I won't do the stealin', if you don't mind of course," he hastily added, remembering his place.  
  
"I will," volunteered Pippin, and Merry nodded. "I've been in the Houses before, but you must tell me what I'm to be looking for."  
  
Merry whipped out a quill pen and parchment, scribbling down hastily the ingredients for a special herbal tea he remembered. Living in Brandyhall had taught him many cures for the many sickness circulating around the large Hall.  
  
He handed the list to Pippin, who quickly scanned it over while donning his elven cloak. He tucked it into a breeches pocket and said  
  
"Well, I'm off. Wish me luck."  
  
His eyes were glittering with adventure and suspense as he slipped quietly out the door and was gone.  
  
"Stealing, I regret to say, is one of the things Pippin does best," Merry admitted to Sam. "If he cannot get the medicine, no one can."  
  
Sam nodded sadly, disappointed at the level they had brought themselves down to. A weak cough from Frodo brought him back to the present. He quickly made his way over to the bed and resumed the place beside it he hadn't left all night. Merry knew this, and gently chided his devotion.  
  
"Come Sam, you must get some rest if you're to care for him. I'll watch him while you sleep."  
  
Sam was tired, but he felt he could go longer. Still, he knew the truth behind the statement. Seeing the resolve in Merry's eyes, though, he decided a short rest wouldn't hurt.  
  
"Thank you, sir," he said as he relinquished the chair and helped Merry climb onto the tall pile of cushions.  
  
'What a hassle,' Sam thought as he stacked them. 'If only we were back home, where everything is normal sized and convenient, and one needn't steal medicine to care for someone.'  
  
Once Merry was occupied, Sam laid down on the mattress carried in from the other room and slept him troubles away.  
  
~  
  
No such peaceful sleep rested in Frodo's troubled mind. Fearful images, grotesqued by the fever materialized in and out of his dreams, warped and stretched out of proportion. He was looking for something, or someone, but things kept on getting in the way. He was being held down. He couldn't move.  
  
'I'm waking up,' he suddenly realized. He opened his crusted eyes and the dim light dwelling wherever he was forced him to close them again.  
  
"Sam," he heard himself calling softly, and then a rag, a wonderful soothing rag was laid across his forehead and eyes, blocking out the terrible light.  
  
"Shh," he heard someone say. "Sam's resting now, but I'm here."  
  
"Who are you?" Frodo asked.  
  
"It's me, Merry."  
  
'Merry,' Frodo thought, and the name was the last thing on his mind before he fell back into the pit of troubled dreams.  
  
~*~  
  
Pippin crouched underneath the windowsill of Frodo's bedroom, stolen herbs wrapped up in a pouch held in his hot hand. He waited for the guards to pass, then threw the pouch up into the window. It hit with a dull flop and dived back to hit Pippin square in the head.  
  
'Drat! The window's closed,' Pippin thought. He picked up a small pebble and shot it at the glass, hoping to attract their attention. He waited for a minute, and threw another. Where were they?  
  
"Well, what do we have here?"  
  
Pippin gasped and spun around, coming face to face with a Captain.  
  
"So there you are," the Captain said sternly, and Pippin felt himself go pale.  
  
"What are you doing in the bushes?" the Man asked, eyeing the hobbit suspiciously. "The King has called for you, but no one has been able to find you, until now."  
  
"Well, I, uh," Pippin stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. If only he had the wits of Merry about him. But he was all alone, and Frodo's life depended on him.  
  
"The King called for me?" he finally asked with an attempted smile, hoping to distract the Man, who nodded and motioned for Pippin to follow him. There was nothing Pippin could do but follow, and drop the pouch underneath the window. When the captain's back turned for a minute to greet someone, he snatched up a pebble and threw it at the window in one last effort to get the occupant's attention. But the pebble fell short, and Pippin was herded off to a conference with the King. The reluctant hobbit had an awful idea of what it was about.  
  
~  
  
Merry was at a loss. Where was Pippin? He should have been here by now. He looked anxiously at Frodo's pale face. His breaths were shallower. If only they could give him a bath. It might help cool his fiery skin some. Frodo moaned in his sleep and coughed weakly, eyelids fluttering slightly as he mumbled something unintelligible. Suddenly, his hand shot to his breast, where the Ring had lain for so long. Merry shook his head in sorrow.  
  
'After all Frodo did,' he thought, 'After all he suffered, now this.'  
  
It just wasn't fair. His thoughts traveled back to the woods of Ithilien, and the care Aragorn had put into reviving the hobbits after the eagles had brought them there. He thought of Sam's description of Shelob, and of the terrible trek through Mordor.  
  
"I remember," Merry said softly to Frodo, even though he most likely couldn't hear him, "I remember when I was sick once, and you came all the way from Hobbiton because you were worried. You didn't even let Bilbo know where you were going, you were so urgent to get to Brandyhall. I remember whenever I would wake up, you were there right at my bedside, asking me if there was anything I wanted to feel better."  
  
A sharp sound on the window suddenly distracted his thoughts. As soon as he decided it must have been his imagination, there was another one! Merry turned around, forgetting his delicate position, and fell with a cry of surprise to the floor, scattering his cushions in every direction and twisting his shoulder as he landed on it awkwardly.  
  
He sat up painfully, gripping his shoulder as he rocked back and forth moaning softly to himself. He had fallen on his bad arm, the arm that smote the Ring Wraith. It was still tender, and now he had re-injured it. He cursed his stupidity.  
  
'Only Pippin would have done something like that,' he thought miserably. 'Pippin! Maybe it's Pippin at the window!'  
  
He raised himself with difficulty and padded over to the window, peering out cautiously. No one was in sight. He chided himself all the more. Sam was asleep, the cushions were scattered, Pippin was late, and Merry was injured. How would he get back up to care for Frodo?  
  
'Ah! I can climb up onto the bed!'  
  
Merry clambered up onto the chair, still holding his shoulder, and sat on the edge of the bed. Frodo lay pale, unmoving, dark hair crowning his still head like a wreath of black silk. Something else was wrong.  
  
"Frodo?" Merry held his hand against his cousin's lips. He felt nothing.  
  
'No!' he thought in panic. He snatched a spoon from the bedside table and shakily held it to Frodo's mouth, searching desperately for any sign of life. There! A tiny breath of fog, so small it was hardly noticible. He checked Frodo's pulse at his neck, one, two, so slowly. Just then, a drop splashed down to sizzle on Frodo's hot neck. Merry was crying.  
  
"Please, Frodo," he begged, tears coursing down his face. "Don't die."  
  
Merry looked up longingly at the door, willing it to open.  
  
"Pippin," he said out loud to the room, "Where are you?"  
  
~  
  
Pippin ran desperately down the corridor then outside into the courtyard, propelled by a sudden sense of urgency. He didn't care now who saw him, as long as he got the pouch. He had reached the window. He snatched up the pouch and began banging on the window loudly. After a lifetime of the act, it was finally pulled open and Merry's distraught face suddenly melted into relief when he saw who it was.  
  
"Pippin!' he exclaimed, pulling him in with his good arm. The other, Pippin noticed, was tied in a sling.  
  
"You're hurt!" Pippin exclaimed, forgetting about Frodo for just an instant.  
  
"Yes, now where is it?"  
  
Merry snatched the pouch and mixed the tea hurriedly.  
  
"What.." Began Pippin, but he was silenced instantly by his cousin.  
  
"Wake up Sam," Merry ordered his cousin as he poured the bitter tea into a cup.  
  
He carried it shakily over to Frodo's bedside, and Sam was suddenly there, taking the tea from Merry and climbing up to administer it himself. At the sight of Frodo's face, however, he suddenly stopped with a cry, letting the tea cup plunge to the floor. It shattered with an ear-splitting crash, hundreds of pieces flying in all directions as the long-sought for tea splattered useless across the floor. But its' loss was not noticed by the distraught Sam.  
  
"No!" He screamed in agony, testing Frodo's wrist frantically, running through the same checklist Merry had done half an hour ago while Frodo's life wasted away before his helpless eyes.  
  
But Sam for once was of no use. Pippin was too late. No hot breath touched the spoon, only cold, dead lips. No pulse beat through the veins of his master, sustaining the life that had remained just long enough to save Middle Earth from the conquest of evil.  
  
The Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins of the Shire, was dead.  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
Note: Don't panic! Read the chapter title. (How could I really kill Frodo?) Please review! I'm adding the next chapter as soon as I get enough reviews to answer. 


	8. New Awakenings

Chapter 8 New Awakenings Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: Nope, me no own Lord of the Rings copyright.  
  
Note to all my reviewers: So I won't have to say it in every reply, sorry to leave you all hanging. Honestly though, how could anyone kill Frodo? Or any of the hobbits? I just had to have an excuse to put in the dark tunnel with the light at the end. J/K  
  
MaidenOfImladris: Well, here's the next chapter! Glad you like the plot! Thanks!  
  
frodolover: How could I kill Frodo? He's only my favorite character. Besides, we all know that Frodo can't physically die. Count the times he's almost died. Ring wraith, cave troll, Shelob, Mount Doom, now this. Glad you like it.  
  
Senni: Thanks for bringing Aragorn's coldness to my attention. It does seem out of character. (I better think of something fast!) Ok, got something. This chapter will explain it. Yeah, this is the last thing the hobbits need, but they never asked for it. Evil author.mwahahahahahaha!!!  
  
Coolio02: Thanks for reviewing so much! I'm glad someone read the bottom note..anyways! *ahem* If you like this story, you might want to check out my other ones. They are lighthearted and funny, sharp contrast to this one. (And it'll give you something to do while waiting for me to update. *blush*)  
  
Arwen Baggins: Thanks for reviewing! Glad you see where I'm coming from. I'd love to read some of your stories! I'll see if I can find them and give you some reviews. Enjoy this chapter!  
  
Shire Baggins: Good insight! You hit the nail on the head. Aragorn didn't realize how sick Frodo really was, and was distracted when Sam came in to talk to him, as you will see in this chapter. Also, regaining a kingship from a country that hasn't had a king for three thousand years or so can be slightly overwhelming, I'll explain that in the story later. Now you'll be ahead of the plot, so I had better shut my mouth before I give more away. Bother. Anyways, enjoy!  
  
ROTKlover: Glad you and your sister like this story. My own sister is sitting on the edge of out bunk bed right now waiting for me to let her read the eight chapter! But I said No until I post this. Unfortunately, this is the shortest chapter so far. Sorry! But you'll see why.  
  
Last Time: Frodo 'died.'  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Frodo looked down. He saw himself, pale and cold on the bed. Sam was suddenly there; he dropped a teacup. Then Frodo was suddenly traveling through a dark tunnel, the same one he had read about so often before. There was a dazzling light at the end. He was going there, to become part of the light. He reached out to it, but was stopped by some force other than his own, and came face to face with his long-lost parents. His father stood beside his mother, but instead of welcoming him, they were turning him back.  
  
"Go back," the late Drogo Baggins said softly. "It's not your time. This is not your fate, my son. Not yet."  
  
He was being sucked back, his mother and father were gone, disappearing into the mist clouding the tunnel. Then nothing, as his conscious mind faded and he slipped into a dark dream where he was sailing over a great gray sea, where the white gulls called back and forth to each other in sharp voices; silver songs weeping of things that were no more.  
  
~  
  
Sam jumped back in shock and disbelief as his master's chest suddenly rose and breath was sucked into his lifeless lungs. It couldn't be, but it was! Frodo was breathing. He hesitantly checked his pulse..one, two, three; faster and faster his heart beat the life-blood to course through the veins and arteries of his body.  
  
Sam watched incredulously as the color slowly returned to his master's death-whitened face.  
  
"Merry.." He managed to whisper, and fainted dead away.  
  
~  
  
Pippin caught Sam as he fell.  
  
"What happened?" he asked anxiously. Being down on the floor, he hadn't seen Frodo come miraculously back to life, or even known he was dead. He was beginning to guess what had happened when Sam fainted.  
  
"What happened, Mer?"  
  
He dragged Sam over to the mattress, and ran back to help support his weeping cousin.  
  
"Frodo." Merry gasped, choking with emotion.  
  
"NO!" Pippin screamed as he let go of his cousin (who collapsed on the floor) and bounded up to the bed. He let out a huge sigh and melted into the coverlet.  
  
"Don't ever do that again," he gasped. "I thought he was dead by the way you reacted."  
  
"Don't you understand?" sobbed Merry. "He IS dead!"  
  
"No he's not!" Pippin would have laughed had the situation been less serious. Merry was playing games. Frodo wasn't dead, it was plain as the nose on his face! What was the matter with Merry, and why had Sam fainted?  
  
"Pippin, now YOU stop playing games with me," Merry chastised, tears running down his face. "He's dead! What's wrong with you?"  
  
"He is not dead," said Pippin firmly. "Come up and see for yourself."  
  
Merry dragged himself to his feet and joined his cousin. Once he had, all the color drained form his face.  
  
"What the...but...I saw...," he stuttered, utterly confounded.  
  
"Merry, you need to sit down."  
  
Pippin helped his weak cousin to a chair and began preparing a cup of tea for him, not forgetting to make one for himself.  
  
"I suppose I should make some for Frodo to drink when he wakes," said Pippin absentmindedly.  
  
"He was dead," said Merry, still dumbfounded, dazed with grief and shock. "I saw him. He was dead. I don't understand. It's impossible."  
  
Pippin handed the tea to his disturbed companion, and watched him carefully as he drank it. Other than being terribly shocked and confused, he seemed normal. Maybe something HAD happened. Anyways, he figured now would be a good time to tell him why he was late.  
  
"Merry, the reason I was late is well...I was caught."  
  
"You were caught?" said Merry, half-occupied.  
  
"Yes, and I was going to be taken to the King, but I escaped the captain who was taking me there."  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
Pippin nodded, and realized Merry hadn't heard a word he had said. Pippin sighed and turned to Sam, who had now recovered and was sitting up looking around him curiously. Pippin brought him the tea, but as soon as Sam caught sight of him, he jumped up and flew to the bed, still rubbing the consciousness back into his eyes.  
  
Was Frodo still alive, or had it all been a dream? Yes, he was! A wave of unspeakable emotions passed over him as he beheld his master's sleeping form. With them, came the confusion currently being experienced by Merry.  
  
Sam took Frodo's hand cautiously and its warm, living blood seemed to pump though into Sam's own veins. He felt like he wanted to jump and shout and fly out the window to proclaim to the city his master wasn't dead.  
  
So he did. He bounded off the bed and leapt into the air, hollering with overflowing joy.  
  
"He's alive!" Sam shouted blissfully, dancing Pippin around in a circle. "He's alive an' breathin' an' the blood's in his veins! Whoopee!"  
  
"Sam, keep it down!" warned Pippin, still cautious about being discovered again. No doubt they were still looking for him, more earnestly than before.  
  
"Keep it down?" Sam face betrayed his wonder. "When mister Frodo returned from death itself? I think you need a dunk in cold water!"  
  
"No, Sam," reprimanded Pippin using a tone beyond his years. "I only barely escaped when the captain's back was turned, so it's undoubted that he's looking for me, and you too! And Merry, and Frodo. Remember, we only got Frodo out yesterday evening!"  
  
"And just in time, sir," said Sam, calming down some. "If we hadn't been there, he would've died, for good." The last two words were almost whispered. "I almost lost him three times now, but each time he's returned to me. If he ever left, for good, I don't think I could stand the sight of the sun anymore, or feel the breeze on my face, or ever find delight in life ever again!"  
  
Pippin put an arm around him reassuringly.  
  
"Don't worry Sam. He hasn't left you before, and he isn't likely to do so ever."  
  
"I sure hope you're right, master Pippin," said Sam wringing out a damp cloth to lay over Frodo's forehead. "I most certainly hope you're right."  
  
~*~  
  
Voices. Soft, melodious voices drifting in and out, up and down, floating on waves of gentle rain and soothing, shifting colors. He was so comfortable. The nightmares were gone, faded into the invisible mists of forgetfulness. He had been sick, right? Of course he had. And he remembered seeing himself, and Sam dropping the teacup, and his parents.  
  
His parents. Frodo opened one stiff eye a slit, allowing it to adjust to the light before he opened his eyes fully. He was laying in the same bed he had seen himself in earlier, but how earlier he couldn't tell. He turned his head slightly to one side, seeking out the voices. Two curly hobbit heads peeped over the edge of the high mattress, engaged deep in conversation. But where was the third?  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's delighted voice drifted softly over to him, borne on gentle waves of honest, unconditional love.  
  
"Sam."  
  
Frodo locked eyes with him, and unspeakable emotions flowed back and forth as the two friends spoke without words, for no words were needed.  
  
"Frodo?" Merry and Pippin jumped up from where they had been sitting and dashed around to stand in their cousin's gaze.  
  
"Welcome back, cousin," said Merry gently, with a soft smile. "You gave us quite a fright."  
  
"I did?" Frodo's voice was still weak, but it was enough to hear him speak. Pippin had arrived at Merry's elbow with the long-awaited tea, not quite as strong as before.  
  
"Drink this," he said, lifting the beverage to his lips as Frodo drank bitterly of it.  
  
"As usual, a toxic potion," he joked feebly, having experienced Merry's medicine many times before.  
  
The four smiled in spite of themselves and evening darkened into twilight, throwing long shadows across the floor and bringing the corners of the room into darkness.  
  
~*~  
  
Where was the hobbit? The little creature had evaded him, him! Captain of Gondor!  
  
'Well, we'll see what the King has to say about missing his conference with him,' the Man thought bitterly to himself as he made his way to the King's study. The courier nodded at him and stepped inside to announce his arrival. The frustrated Captain had only a moment to wait before he was admitted.  
  
The King's face upon seeing his captain unaccompanied was grave.  
  
"Did you encounter some trouble bringing Master Pippin, Captain?" He asked.  
  
"Yes, Your Majesty," he answered. "Finding him was one matter, but bringing him here was another. He seems to have disappeared, sire."  
  
"Ah, well, he can't be far," smiled the King, remembering the hobbit's fondness for food. He sighed. "I had hoped to hear his explanation for the utterly surprising jailbreak. These hobbits are not patient enough! I was going to release Frodo at dusk, only to have the reports of his escape brought to me as I was signing the order!"  
  
"You sound unsurprised, sire," said an astonished Captain.  
  
"No, I am not, I was not surprised. Now that I think about it, I should have expected nothing less. I was greatly distracted with a letter from Rivendell when Sam burst into here. I'm afraid I wasn't thinking correctly, and may have sounded slightly harsh to him. The poor fellow."  
  
"Then, sire, are there to be no consequences? You of all people know the laws of this land!"  
  
The King sighed deeply.  
  
"I do know the law," he said sadly. "And I am at a loss to a decision. I suppose the delay in bringing Pippin here is for the better. Perhaps it would be better to have all three testify in front of a council, where there are many ears to interpret what he has to say, and many more minds with greater experienced than mine at dealing justice. Look for him no more. You are dismissed."  
  
The Captain bowed and exited the room quickly; glad to have the ordeal over with. The King's gray eyes followed him as he went, sparkling delightedly with the beginnings of a mischievous plan.  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
Note: Sorry that this chapter was shorter, but the plot flows better if it ends here. Don't worry; a new one will be posted shortly. 


	9. Explanations

Chapter 9 Explanations Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: Do I really have to put a disclaimer in front of every chapter? I don't think so. Anyways, I don't own Lord of the Rings. Cheese nips, anyone?  
  
*Note to all my Reviewers: Ok, I freaked out this afternoon when I checked my email and there were fourteen new messages-all reviews! So thanks guys! I'm soo thrilled you like this! I hope you'll keep reading when the plot goes dark and angst-y soon.  
  
endymion2: Somnolent.somnolent.*looks through dictionary* ok! Lol, I get it. Now that I think about it, he is kinda sleepy. And congrats to Pippin, he found the right window. (Although I still don't why he didn't just use the door. Ok, he was acting in character.) Don't worry, this chapter will answer your other question! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
FrodosIsRcool: Boy, you must have read some pretty bad stories to think mine is the best on the INTERNET! *blush blush* Especially to say this is better than the MOVIE. Or maybe you haven't read anything by MBradford. Hmmmm... I hope this chapter is long enough. It's the longest one yet. No, I haven't bought TTT, cause I'm saving my limited money for the extended version in November. The EE seems to fill in the cool stuff that the theatrical version left out. Thanks for reveiwing!  
  
frodolover: Thanks for reviewing! Hope you like this next chapter. It explains everything I've forgotten so far (hence the title).  
  
ROTKlover: YEA! Go Sponge Bob Cheese Nips! If you do write a story, I'd love to read it! Glad you (and your sis) like this story. I have more. They're shorter by far, and more lighthearted. This chapter is four or five pages longer than chapter 8, so enjoy!  
  
Coolio02: Whoopee! Frodo lives! We all know he can't die, of course. Hope you like this chapter and my other stories. Thanks 4 reviewing again!  
  
Arwen Baggins: Thanks for your late-night review! No, we still haven't heard from Gandalf, (he'll come up next chapter) but he has his reasons. Hope you like this chapter!  
  
Iorhael: Thanks for reviewing twice! Yeah, it's always a good idea to go on to the next chapter! ; ) Thanks for loving my story, and I hope you update on yours soon! (You got me started reading angst, and now I'm writing it! Oh boy...)  
  
Shire Baggins: Boy, do you have my notes or something? No, that can't be it. But there's no way you can figure out chapter 10, right? All in good humor, no offense meant. Hee hee, hope you like this chapter, it's a 'transition chapter.' Thus the title. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
elfitchick: You of all people should know me by now! What do I always do to characters? Think carefully...You guessed it! It'll happen. Mwahahahaha. We haven't seen the last of abused Sam, or Frodo. Sorry. Too bad. But keep reading. By the way, thanks for reviewing!! : )  
  
Last Time: Frodo came back to life and scared his friends (again). We gained some new insight on the Aragorn situation, and we'll see what he has up his sleeve!  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Aragorn crouched silently behind a stack of barrels in the cellar. He shifted ever so slightly from one knee to the other. Drat! His foot had fallen asleep again! Ah well, he dared not move. Pippin was on his way, drawing closer with every sneaking step.  
  
'Nothing could keep hobbits from food,' Aragorn chuckled to himself, reviewing his simple plan to himself once again. He yawned. He shouldn't really be here. He knew where the hobbits were staying, even though none of his guards could figure it out. Aragorn was having fun watching them try, though.  
  
'The silly fools,' he thought kindly. 'They all think the hobbits escaped outside the city. Why would they (the hobbits)? Everything they could want is right here. Too bad they didn't wait for my order.'  
  
Aragorn's ranger senses picked up the soft padding of hobbit feet down the corridor, jolting him from his thoughts.  
  
'Ah, here he comes.'  
  
The almost-invisible figure of a hooded and cloaked Pippin slinked through the doorway and into the cellar, concealing a large basket. He drifted here and there, placing various items in his basket until it was bulging full. Then, with a quick look around, he snuck out, trailed unknowingly by a very skilled ranger.  
  
~*~  
  
Pippin knocked three times on Frodo's concealed door, brushing aside Merry's elven cloak as he did so to let his signal sound. The door quickly opened and he was pulled inside.  
  
"Shh," whispered Merry, pointing to the sleeping figure on the bed. Pippin nodded and triumphantly produced the objects of his midnight excursion. His cousin smiled in approval, motioning for him to set it down by the hearth.  
  
Merry turned back to the bed, where Sam was watching over his master with the utmost care. He had not left his side since Frodo had awakened, and the effects of such diligence were beginning to show. Sam was smarter than that. He knew when he needed rest, and although reluctant, was often willing to hand over his duty to someone else, providing he knew Frodo would be left in good, trusting hands.  
  
"Sam," Merry said softly as he approached him. "Pip and I can take over now. You need some rest."  
  
Sam shook his head hard, determined to stay.  
  
"I have to stay, sir. If Frodo woke up again and I wasn't there to be the first person he lays his eyes on, well, I..." He sighed.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Merry pried.  
  
"N.er, I suppose so," confessed Sam awkwardly.  
  
"Come now, tell me about it."  
  
Sam cleared his throat nervously, embarrassed a little that he had let his guard down.  
  
"When mister Frodo was still in the cell, I went down to visit him one day an'..an', he went mad an'...told me I was a traitor."  
  
Merry gasped.  
  
"Sam, surely you don't believe that? Why, you're the most loyal hobbit in the Shire!"  
  
Sam shook his head, tears coming to his eyes.  
  
"No I'm not," he choked. "I was angry at Frodo, for hittin' me, even though I knew he didn't mean to, but oh! Sir, I didn't come down to see him for nigh on a week, because I was angry, and wanted.." He stopped in mid sentence to catch his breath. The tears were flowing down his face now.  
  
"I..wanted him to be there," he gasped finally, hanging his head in shame. Merry stood dumbfounded at this new revelation in Sam's character.  
  
"Sam," he comforted, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I know what you mean. There's times I want to do the same to Pippin. But they pass, and we are better friends than ever."  
  
"Are you tellin' the truth, sir?" asked Sam in surprise. Merry nodded.  
  
"You're NOT a traitor, Sam. Friends get mad at each other sometimes. It's natural. If anything, forgiving each other makes your friendship stronger because you've been through the fire."  
  
"Thank you, sir," breathed a relieved Sam. "I'll confess what I done to Mister Frodo when he gets well enough, and I know he'll forgive me. If he hesitates, I'll remind him of how I've forgiven him for attackin' me."  
  
"That's swell, Sam," said Merry, patting him on the back. "Now, will you get some rest? I can see why you didn't want to before. You thought Frodo would think you were neglecting him, which of course would be absurd. I'll be there if he wakes up."  
  
"Thank you sir," said Sam once more as he relinquished his post for a long- awaited nap.  
  
~*~  
  
Outside Frodo's door, Aragorn overheard the conversation, tears coming to his eyes. What amazing creatures hobbits were! Maybe he should wait until tomorrow to call on them.  
  
'No,' he decided. 'They're all here now. I might as well get it over with.'  
  
He strode boldly up to the door, smiling at the familiar disguise, and knocked loudly upon it's hard wooden surface.  
  
~  
  
Sam bolted upright from his reclined position and Pippin nearly jumped out of his skin at the thundering bang.  
  
"They're here!" gasped Pippin, staring at the door wildly.  
  
"Wh..what's happening?" asked an awakened Frodo faintly. Sam's head snapped in his master's direction, attention averted in a second to Frodo's helpless plight. What if the guards had come for him? Frodo would be thrown back in his cell for sure, with no chance of recovering. On the other hand, if the guards had come for his rescuers he would be left in the same position; helpless and alone to face an uncertain future. Sam glanced franticly at Merry. He too was thinking the same things.  
  
"Sam," spoke Merry resolutely, "You must take Frodo and escape now, while you have the chance."  
  
Sam had heard those words before.  
  
"No!" he hissed, struggling to keep his voice low. "I cannot leave you and Pippin to face the punishment alone!"  
  
The door banged again, and regardless of Sam's protests, he soon found a bewildered Frodo in his strong arms.  
  
Merry opened the window, beckoning Sam and his burden over.  
  
"Out the window.." Sam began, but he got no further. The door began to open, and with a cry of  
  
"Sorry!" Merry pushed them out the window into the darkness, and turned to face the expected onslaught.  
  
~  
  
Sam hit the ground with a muffled  
  
"Umph," Frodo still in his arms. Thankfully, the window sill was not far from the ground, and a tangle of bushes had broken their fall. Not a second later, a couple blankets landed on top of them, doubtlessly thrown down by Pippin.  
  
Sam quickly helped his master sit up, wrapping him in the blankets to ward off the chilly night air.  
  
"Sam.." Frodo began, but he stopped when a finger was placed on his quivering lips.  
  
"Guards were coming for you," Sam explained quickly. "They were going to take you back."  
  
Frodo's blue eyes widened in horror.  
  
"Don't let them get me, Sam," he gasped, trying feebly to stand. The sight of his miserable attempt cut to Sam's heart, and he quickly spoke up.  
  
"I'll carry you, sir. Here climb on my back, and Sam will carry you just like before."  
  
He hoisted Frodo onto his back and was about to set off somewhere into the night when Merry's relieved voice materialized in the empty space above them.  
  
"Sam! Frodo!" he called. "Come back! There's no need to worry."  
  
"What happened?" Sam shouted back, wondering about the sudden change in events.  
  
"There WERE no guards," laughed Merry. "It's only Strider!"  
  
~  
  
"Would you like some tea, sire?" asked Pippin nervously.  
  
"Only if it's not too much trouble, master Took," said Aragorn. "I've already caused you so much trouble tonight. I'm terribly sorry for startling you. Believe me, it was not intended."  
  
Pippin laughed, pretending to shake off the incident as thought it was nothing. But he couldn't hide the shaking of his agitated hands as he poured Aragorn's tea.  
  
As he handed the steaming cup to the King, Merry returned from the window.  
  
"They're coming back," he said as he poured a cup for himself. "I'll say, Aragorn, you gave us all quite a scare."  
  
"Yes, it must have been quite severe for you to push your friends out the window! Were they hurt?"  
  
Merry shook his head.  
  
"No, Sam's been through worse things, as has Frodo. But I hope Frodo hasn't become too excited."  
  
Aragorn looked at Merry quizzically, sipping his tea. He decided the mystery would solve itself once the two hobbits returned, and sat back, lighting his pipe to smoke quietly while waiting.  
  
Not five minutes later, a soft knock sounded on the door and both hobbits jumped to their feet, each trying to be the first to answer the door. The only result was that they both crashed into each other, rebounding in opposite directions, and it was Aragorn who let Sam in, carrying his master.  
  
"Frodo!" exclaimed Aragorn in shock at the sight of his pale, sickness-worn face. "I had...I had no idea!"  
  
Sam bitterly laid his burden down upon the recently vacated bed, covering him with blankets. The King was immedeitly at Frodo's side. If only he had known!  
  
"I'm so sorry, Frodo," he apoloqized sincerely. "If I had known you were ill, I would not only have ordered your release, I would have cared for you myself! Please forgive me."  
  
Frodo nodded and Sam returned with a cup of herbal tea to put him to sleep.  
  
"Apparently the reports you receive fail to leave out the details," Sam grumbled. "I assume they neglected to mention how he was beaten, and chained, and left all alone to his misery."  
  
Aragorn was speechless with horror. He had thought Frodo was being well cared for by the best in Gondor.  
  
"This atrocity will not go unpunished!" he assured Sam firmly. "They had strict orders from me that Frodo was to be cared for as though he were the King himself!"  
  
"That part of your order seems to have not been heeded," came Frodo's voice lowly form the bed.  
  
"He had a terrible fever yesterday," said Merry. "You won't believe this, but he died from it."  
  
Aragorn stared blankly at the hobbit.  
  
"I can see for myself he's alive, master Merry. What do you mean by such things?"  
  
Merry quickly launched into a full explanation of Frodo's death and awakening, not failing to leave out the littlest details. His account was justified by Frodo himself, who recollected his experiences to the ranger once Merry had finished. At the end, the King sat back speechless, absorbing all he had just heard in vague disbelief. Finally, he rose from his seat.  
  
"Well, it seems you've had quite an eventful time since we last met," he said. "It makes me all the more sorry that I hadn't known. I would have done my best to prevent it...but why did you hide Frodo rather than bring him to me?"  
  
"Well," faltered Pippin, "We didn't exactly trust Men anymore, after what they did to him, and we thought you were too busy taking care of the affairs of your kingdom to worry about a sick hobbit."  
  
"Pippin!" exclaimed Aragorn, sitting down again. "If any one of you so much as cut your finger I would want to know! Why, Frodo's the Ringbearer! If it weren't for him, all of us would be dead or captured by now!"  
  
"Ah," said Sam tightly, "So it's his reputation, his deeds you value. I see. So he didn't matter enough for you to come down from your lofty throne and pay him a little visit?"  
  
Aragorn was pierced to the heart.  
  
"No, I mean, yes, he does matter to me. I..I put too much faith in my guards. I should have investigated them more thoroughly before trusting them with the well being of a very good friend of mine. I see now I was wrong."  
  
A new thought dawned on him then.  
  
"Surely you spent a lot of time down there with him, Sam, seeing as how you're so faithful. Why didn't you stop them from hurting your master?"  
  
Sam reddened to the roots of his curly hair. He opened his mouth to explain, but Merry jumped in.  
  
"Sam has his reasons, as you have yours," he said, clearing his throat. "But I suggest you tell us the real reason for your visit. Surely there is something you want to proclaim, or sentence, rather."  
  
Merry's face was pale and grim. Pippin took a deep breath and stepped beside him.  
  
"We know breaking into the jail was wrong," he said. "Now, we'd like to know the consequences of our actions."  
  
~  
  
Frodo had been listening silently to the entire conversation. Now, he couldn't stand it any longer.  
  
"Please, don't be too harsh on them!" He pleaded. "They were only trying to help me."  
  
"I know," said Aragorn softly. "I haven't come to proclaim sentence upon you. I only wanted to find out what really happened, and why."  
  
"Why..what," stammered Merry. "Why did you come in the middle of the night and scare us like you did? Why didn't you come in the morning?"  
  
Aragorn sighed.  
  
"I came now because I have been detained all day, and this is the only solitary time I have." He paused and continued. "I didn't want you to be in front of a council when you give your explanation, which is where you most likely would have ended up."  
  
Seeing the confused looks on their faces, he settled their minds.  
  
"If the accused testify in the presence of the King and at least two other witnesses, it may take the place of a trial, according to the laws of this land."  
  
He nodded in Frodo's direction, indicating that he was a witness. Frodo's heart skipped a beat. Could this mean..  
  
"Does this mean I must testify against my kinsmen?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"No, of course not," said Aragorn reassuringly, and Frodo sighed in relief, reclining against the pillows. But a few unanswered questions still lingered in his troubled mind.  
  
"Now that you've heard the story, what course of action will you pursue?" he asked, hinting towards his three friends.  
  
"If I may," came a voice from the corner, and everyone save Aragorn jumped.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
The prince of Mirkwood stepped gracefully out of the shadows in the corner by the doorway, removing the hood of his elven cloak.  
  
"How did you get in here?" gasped Pippin.  
  
"I slipped in behind Aragorn," the elf said casually. "It's a wonder no one saw me. I've been standing here all this time, waiting for someone to notice me." He sighed. "Apparently I am a pillar." He waved his hand towards one of the many stone pillars carved decoratively into the walls.  
  
"Why didn't you make your presence known?" asked Frodo.  
  
Leoglas shrugged, smiling.  
  
"I suppose I love being invisble as much as our friend here," he joked, motioning towards Aragorn. Frodo noticed Sam raise one eyebrow in scorn. Apparently his slight movement caught the eye of the elf.  
  
"Aragorn told me to remain invisible, so as not to distract anyone, although I'm sure no one would have withheld anything even if they had known I was here. In case you've forgotten, he did mention TWO witnesses were needed."  
  
"No, I had not forgotten," spoke Frodo wearily. "I was coming to that."  
  
Frodo was very tired, and the conversation was dragging on longer than it should. Sam noticed his master's dropping eyelids and said quickly  
  
"So what's going to happen to us?"  
  
Aragorn sighed.  
  
"I haven't decided yet, but rest assured, it won't be terrible. The severest consequences will rest with the Keeper and his guards."  
  
Sam couldn't withhold a triumphant beam of joy upon hearing the statement. It seemed at last the injustice inflicted upon Frodo would be repaid. Any doubt or grudges he held upon Aragorn's part were forgotten.  
  
"Very well," said Merry, glancing at his pocket watch. "I'm sorry to turn you two lords out so soon, but we have had a trying time of late."  
  
"Of course, of course," said Aragorn, rising quickly and making his way to the door. "I apologize once more for the inconveniences I caused tonight, but I hope you now understand why. Good night, Frodo! Sam, Merry, Pippin," he nodded to each of them as he said their names, and disappeared out the door, followed noiselessly by a still grinning Legolas.  
  
"Well," breathed Sam at last, "Now we can finally get some sleep!"  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
Note: If this sounds like the end of the story, you guessed wrong. If this story had parts, this *might* be the end of part one of a three - part series! DEFIENETLY more coming! Please review, and tell me what you think will happen next! (whoever guesses closest will be congratulated. WOW) 


	10. Crime and Punishment

Chapter 10 Crime and Punishment Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: No I don't own the Lord of the Rings. Just this plot.  
  
endymion2: I hope you like how Aragorn punishes the Keeper. It's kinda original, but I had to keep the evil dude in Gondor, as you will see. I couldn't banish him because his part (regrettably) is not finished. Frodo seemed to recover really fast, but you will also see that is not the case. However, he is recovered from his madness, but I haven't been able to explain that yet because Gandalf isn't here to say so. Long response from me, I would make it longer, but 'I have places to go, things to steal'.(the Goddess of Chaos, from Sinbad). Enjoy!  
  
Arwen Baggins: Thanks for reviewing again! After I finished writing the last chapter, I thought it sounded like the story was ending. I'm glad you like it, and I hope you'll keep posted.  
  
elfitchick: Yes, I keep on torturing Sam. Thanks for not leaving, though. Hope you keep on reviewing! Bye! Enjoy this chapter, bad guy gets his own.  
  
lily: Cheese nips! Lol, that's funny. I like it better when a bunch of chapters magically pop up. Sorry I can't do that. Stinkin' school..arg. Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. Thanks for reviewing! Bye for now!  
  
Last time: Forget it. I can't remember. (too many chapters to think through) Something about Lord of the Rings...  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Clank! The iron bars snapped in place, dooming the Keeper to an eternal day of ridicule and scorn in the stocks. He glowered fiercely at the guards as they turned away snickering. How dare they! His sharp green eyes burned with hate as he stared loathsomely at the wooden platform in front of him. He twisted his head around on the skinny turret of his neck, testing his living space for the next twenty-four hours. He saw his hands, imprisoned uselessly six inches from either side of his face, and spat in disgust.  
  
The hobbit had been a prisoner, nothing more, until the infernal jailbreak! The nerve of his friends, to 'rescue' him!  
  
'Ha, what friends he has,' thought the Keeper scornfully. 'They didn't even come to visit him, except for the fat one, who I saved. So this is how they repay me!'  
  
"Curse them!" he shouted aloud to the growing crowd of sightseers, all gaping to read the notice nailed to his pedestal declaring what crime he had committed. The eager crowd ignored his outburst, enraging the Keeper all the more. He would be revenged! The fat hobbit would pay, and his little master with him.  
  
A new dark thought clouded his mind. What of the other two, the warriors? Revenge was not an option while they were still watching over the former prisoner.  
  
'Heh,' the Keeper snorted. 'I can take care of them easily enough. Once they're out of the way, the fat hobbit is mine!'  
  
He snickered evilly to himself, turning his punishment to his advantage. Now he would have an entire day to entertain his thoughts, evolving his wicked plan until it was reeking with malicious maturity.  
  
~  
  
Frodo stared blankly up at the ceiling. The events of last night had tired him greatly, but too much was on his mind still to allow him the peaceful oblivion of sleep. He sighed, stirring slightly and Sam turned back to him from gazing out the window.  
  
"You still can't sleep, mister Frodo?" he asked with concern.  
  
"No, Sam," Frodo answered softly, reaching up to pull the covers away from his face.  
  
'It's too hot to be laying in bed,' he thought to himself. But he was yet too weak to stand, his condition unimproved by last night's unanticipated adventure. His head spun whenever he tried to sit up, and he couldn't even raise a cup to his lips without assistance. Thank the Valor Sam was there! Pippin had been obliged to unwillingly return to his duty, and Merry was off somewhere trying to find Legolas and Gimli. He hoped to persuade them to visit Frodo, a task he was sure he could accomplish.  
  
Frodo traced the carved pattern on the ceiling with his weary eyes for the umpteenth time. It was not so long ago he had awoken to find the green lacy branches of Ithilien arched gracefully across the sapphire sky. If only he could go to sleep, and awake to find Gandalf watching over him again!  
  
'Not that Sam isn't enough,' Frodo thought glancing greatfully in his friend's bustling direction. Sam as busy preparing something, most likely food. Frodo sighed again, preparing himself for the familiar lecture Sam would deliver once he found his master wasn't hungry, again. Perhaps he could avoid it this time.  
  
"Sam," he said with the strongest voice he could muster. "You needn't bother. I'm not hungry."  
  
"Of course you're not," said Sam simply. "That's because you haven't seen what I've got this time!"  
  
Frodo had the sudden urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. Why couldn't anyone understand? Sam should know him by now, after all these years! Frodo simply didn't eat as much as other hobbits. The habit had started years and years ago in Buckland and had stayed with Frodo through his entire life. He would often miss Breakfast, second breakfast, and elevensies in Hobbiton, and Sam had grown accustomed to it. Why now did he choose to try and alter it?  
  
"I have sausages and bacon, fresh eggs an d nice, fluffy rolls," Sam dramatized, his eyes twinkling.  
  
"Sam," said Frodo in desperation, "I know how hard you must have worked trying to prepare this for me, but I.."  
  
"I know, you're not hungry," Sam finished for him. "An' the effect of you bein' 'not hungry is you not gettin' well, if I may say so."  
  
Frodo knew he was fighting a loosing battle. He glanced at the unappealing plate of food, wishing Sam would ask him first before going through all the trouble of preparing a meal for him.  
  
"Very well," Frodo sighed, "I'll have a little, because you want me to."  
  
Sam's eyes lit up in triumph as he helped his master sit up. Frodo did his best to conceal the dizziness resulting from such a simple act. Perhaps Sam was right. Maybe food would help him recover faster.  
  
'Maybe?' he thought to himself in ridicule. 'It will help you. And once you're recovered you won't need to be babied any more.' A new thought occurred to him.  
  
"Sam?" he asked hesitantly. "Do you know when you'll be..tried?"  
  
Sam nodded, his face growing grim.  
  
"As soon as you're recovered enough to testify in front of the final council. Even though Aragorn heard the story last night, we still have to be sentenced formal-like."  
  
Frodo nodded, but Sam wasn't finished.  
  
"Speakin' of trials, sir," he said, "I heard tell that the Keeper is on display as we speak, in the stocks for his treatment of you!"  
  
Frodo gasped in surprise, nearly chocking on his food. Why had the Keeper been punished? He had been just another prisoner, as far as Frodo knew.  
  
"Why?" was all he could manage.  
  
"Well, sir," said Sam in surprise. "I just said he's bein' punished for how cruelly he treated you! Didn't you know he knew you were the Ringbearer and had orders to be kind to you?"  
  
"He did?"  
  
Sam nodded gravely, and Frodo knew from the look on his face that if given the opportunity, the Keeper would be sorry he had ever heard the name 'Gamgee.' But he strangely felt sorry for the Keeper. He was just doing his job. Perhaps he had accidentally overlooked the fact, and was being punished for a crime he hadn't intended to commit! Frodo couldn't bear the thought of someone being punished unjustly.  
  
So that was what had been troubling him all morning! The foggy image of the Keeper and Aragorn's undeclared punishment had been lingering in the back recesses of his mind. He knew what he wanted to do to clear them away and bring peace to his conscious. Blast this sickness! He couldn't even get out of bed without nearly fainting. How would it get done? Perhaps...  
  
"Sam?" he asked, knowing his request might be refused. "Will you do something for me?"  
  
"Whatever you want, I'll do it, sir," said Sam loyally. Frodo smiled grimly at the statement. No doubt he would be wanting to take it back in a moment.  
  
"I've finally figure it out, Sam," he began. "I haven't been able to sleep because of my conscious. It's been telling me something needs to be done about this, but I'm afraid I have naught the strength."  
  
Sam's smile was disappearing fast.  
  
"I would do this myself, if I could, but I can't. I know how hot it's been lately, and the Keeper must be terribly thirsty. I wanted to bring him some wat.."  
  
"You can't be serious!" Sam nearly shouted, reddening as bright as the shiny tomatoes he used to tend so well in the garden.  
  
Frodo only nodded, meaning every word he said with nothing but goodness in his heart. Sam shook his head roughly, blonde curls bouncing around his pointed ears.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do this! After all he did to you, to bring him water, why that's absurd! If anything, I'll throw a nice rotten tomato in his face, but bring him water? Never!"  
  
~*~  
  
Sam shuffled his feet along the stone pathway, bucket of water and a ladle sloshing by his side. Why did Frodo always have to look at him like that? If he had his way, the bucket would be full of moldy cabbages and mud, not cool water to soothe a parched villains' throat. He kicked a small stone and it flew far, clinking sharply against a stone jug nearly as tall as he was.  
  
He rounded a corner and the familiar vision met his eyes. The Keeper was squinting, bent over double to reach the neck and wrist holes carved into the object of punishment, now painted with a variety of colors from the barrage of various items hurled at his helpless features. Sam noticed with triumph some prankster had caught him right in the seat with one of the tomatoes Sam had mentioned earlier.  
  
Frodo had been right. The sun was beating unmercifully down upon the scene, causing most onlookers to seek shelter after only ten minutes of jeering in the heat. Sam felt his face burn as he marched forward, and he was sure it wasn't burning from the sun.  
  
'Just give him the water real fast and get it over with,' he thought to himself as he climbed the platform steps to stand in front of the man who had beaten his master. A nervous hush swept over the city crowd as Sam stood face to face with the criminal. He didn't even have to look up. Their eyes were level with each other, and Sam saw the exhaustion beginning to conquer the man.  
  
"My master, Frodo Baggins sends this water," Sam said stiffly, assuring the Keeper the action was none of his own doing. "He told me to tell you he would have come himself, but isn't fully recovered yet to be doin' so. So he sent me."  
  
"And what are you, his slave?" mocked the Keeper in a hoarse voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. Sam drew up his chest, shooting daggers from his eyes.  
  
"I am not his slave," he hissed.  
  
"Then why are you here? Surely not of your own free will!" The man was clearly meaning to infuriate Sam, and was doing a marvelous job of it.  
  
"I'm here because he asked me to," Sam emphasized. "But if you don't want the water, I can leave faster than I came."  
  
The Keeper stared at him, teasing him with his eyes.  
  
"But you don't dare return to your master without completing his full request," the man pointed out.  
  
"If I return without touchin' you, I couldn't be happier," growled Sam. "But it won't be my fault."  
  
Oh, how he hated this man! The crowd was beginning to murmur now, and Sam felt their beady little eyes boring into his back.  
  
'Frodo had no idea what he had sent me to do,' thought Sam. 'If he knew how humiliatin' it is, he wouldn't have come neither!'  
  
'Oh, really?' came the wiser, more logical side of his mind. 'Perhaps he knew all along, but his pity and mercy out measured what people thought of him.'  
  
"Very well," said Sam to the criminal. "I'll tell him you didn't want any water," and he turned to go.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
Sam sighed audibly and faced him one again.  
  
"What? Have you changed your mind?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I have," was the reluctant reply, so Sam filled the ladle grudgingly with water. He set it in one of the man's hands, holding the bucket up so the Keeper could drain the ladle and refill it as many times as he wanted. When the man was finished, Sam tried to leave again, but was stopped once more.  
  
"You said your master would have come," the Keeper said slyly, "but wasn't recovered enough to do so. Tell me, is he really willing to humiliate himself to this level, or was it just an excuse to explain your obviously unwilling actions?"  
  
"My master is more noble than you could ever hope to be," shot back Sam. "He dosen't mind doin' things like this, he just wasn't able to this time. I already told you I came in his place."  
  
"Is that so?" said the man. Sam thought he saw a hint of maliciousness cross his wrinkled features, but it was gone like the morning fog. "Give my regards to your master," he said, and the event was closed.  
  
Sam nearly bounded from the platform, almost empty bucket banging behind him as he ran back.  
  
'I should have dumped the rest over his foul head,' Sam thought as he jogged along, trying to erase the hint of uneasiness lingering in his mind. There was something about that man that gave him the chills as the sun burned on overhead, drawing the world about it into the lazy afternoon heat.  
  
~  
  
The Keeper watched Frodo's servant go. The nerve of his former prisoner, to humiliate him further by sending water! The little imp deserved every slap he had gotten. The man's malice was no longer turned toward the servant. Now all his thoughts were focused on this Baggins fellow.  
  
'In his place, bah!' the Keeper thought to himself. 'Most likely he didn't want to come, knowing how embarrassing it would be. He's probably been petted and babied his whole life. He wasn't able to stand such shame. Ha! He wouldn't last a day...'  
  
A slow, menacing smile snaked across the evil man's face, interrupted rudely by a rather well-aimed tomato. He shook his head and spat out the seeds, hardly noticing the sticky juice dripping from his scraggly beard.  
  
It was so easy, so incredibly easy! Why hadn't he thought of it before? He didn't need to carry out the revenge himself, just get it started. With the right fuel and a little wind of luck, his plan would blossom out into a roaring inferno.  
  
"In his place," he mumbled to himself in glee, feeding on Sam's own words. "Get ready for some change, Frodo Baggins. I think it's about time you and your servant switched places."  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	11. Revenge is Sweet

Chapter 11 Revenge is Sweet Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
**To all my reviewers: Thanks for reviewing! This is the saddest chapter so far, and the most violent (for those of you who love angst and violence), and (so you won't have to say it too many times if you review again).poor Sam! *sob*  
  
Arwen Baggins: I'm glad you liked the rapid update schedule. I'm sorry, but with the start of school *shudder* and Marching Band season *cheers*, I won't be able to keep it up as fast as I have. I hope you don't cry too much in this chapter.  
  
Coolio02: VERY nasty Keeper. But thankfully he isn't nasty in a slash way, just vengeful. We'll see what happens with Gandalf. Meanwhile, hope you have a box of Kleenex for the rest of the story, this chappie especially.  
  
endymion2: But that is the joy of writing, right? Keeping your readers in suspense? Yup. Anyways, hope you like this chapter. I'm trying to be more descriptive. Let me know what I can do to better my style. Thanks!  
  
Shire Baggins: Frodo is too compassionate in this case. His deed only infuriates the villain more. Hope you like this chapter, it's the longest one so far.  
  
Iorhael: Yes, I have read Taken, and up to forty-five on N H, and I think everything else you've written. Sorry if I didn't review on everything, I've been busy and will get busier still. Hope you keep posted, and I also hope you update on Taken soon.  
  
lily: *catches Cheese Nips, but fall out of fingers aHHHHHH cheese nips!* Anyways, I hope you like this chapter, even if it is very sad. (I got teary while writing it.SHHHH!) *wails* POOR SAM!! *sob* Oh well.  
  
Warning: rated PG-13 for violence and ANGST!!  
  
Last time: We left the Keeper with a horrible vow up his sleeve. Now we'll see how he carries it out.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
It was a week later, and the four hobbits stood silently outside the massive carved doors of the council room, awaiting the council's decision. They had been summoned there early this morning, and had been under excruciating trial all day, their nerves on edge. Punishment was unavoidable, but Aragorn had promised before it wouldn't be too harsh.  
  
'That's very well,' Pippin had thought earlier while searching the grave council member's faces, 'Considering Strider's not here.'  
  
What caused their friend to not be in attendance nobody knew. After all he had done, to disappear at the most critical moment was not in his character. Thankfully, Faramir, Steward of Gondor was present, looking anxiously about him for any sign of his King. His was the only friendly face amid the stone-faced elders.  
  
Despite the protests of the hobbits, the council had ensued without the King, and the mood had worsened as the hours dragged on.  
  
"Did I tell you I got a letter from Gandalf?" spoke up Sam, attempting to lighten the dark spirits hovering in their midst. Three anxious heads turned in his direction.  
  
"No, you didn't," replied Merry, raising his eyebrow. "What did it say?"  
  
Sam shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. I didn't have time to open it." He pulled a creased and dirty envelope from his pocket, handing it to Merry. "I was given it on the way here by a messenger."  
  
"Open it!" Pippin urged, trying to find something to distract him from the sick feeling harboring in his stomach. He felt as though he was about to retch any moment, so nervous was he. Merry put a comforting hand on his younger cousin's trembling shoulders and was about to open the letter when the doors flew open. He stuffed it hastily into his breeches pocket and stepped forward into the room, his three companions following right behind him.  
  
They stopped on a large mosaic of the White Tree set years ago into the center of the room and stood awaiting their doom. Faramir stepped forward and unrolled a large scroll. Merry thought he noticed his hands were shaking ever so slightly. He cleared his throat.  
  
"It is the will of the Council ," he read, placing emphasis on the word 'Council,' "That according to the customs long preserved by the realm of Gondor, the testimonies of witnesses, and the law of the Steward (here his voice cracked and he cleared his throat again before continuing), the accused must take on the sole responsibility of their actions. Therefore, concluding the said jailbreak was done in full knowledge of the law, it is the will of the Council to procure sentence upon the accused: Meridoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Samwise Gamgee."  
  
Faramir reclaimed his seat, looking sadly at the three very pale hobbits, shaking his fair head ever so slightly to himself. The leader of the Council then stood and took a scroll and read from it.  
  
"Meridoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took," he began, "You are banished from this realm forevermore. If either of you set foot inside the boundaries of this land again, you will be executed promptly and without trial. Master Took, your title of Knight of Gondor is removed from your person."  
  
Pippin cried out and clutched at Merry's arm to keep from falling to the floor. Merry's rigid face was set in a grim line, eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing at all. Frodo gasped in shock and stared franticly at Faramir. Surely it hadn't been his doing? The Steward's face was buried in his hand, his eyes focusing into his lap. But the Council member wasn't finished.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee," he continued, "You are also banished from the realm, but your sentence has been postponed until further notice."  
  
Frodo couldn't contain himself any longer.  
  
"Is this it?" He shouted to the council. "Is this how you punish people for saving a life? They only broke into the jail to free me because you couldn't take care me well enough!"  
  
"Mister Frodo," interrupted Sam, tears running down his face as he tried to get his master to calm down.  
  
"Shut it, Sam," snapped Frodo harshly, and Sam recoiled. He hadn't heard his master use that tone since he had the Ring.  
  
"Merry here," Frodo yelled, motioning towards the grim hobbit, "Saved your city! Don't you remember? He smote the King of the Ringwraiths! And Pippin! He fought for you! He's a knight of your realm! How can you banish them?"  
  
"Frodo.." Whispered Merry, but his voice was unheard by his furious cousin.  
  
"What about Sam? He went into Mordor. He carried me to Mount Doom so I could destroy the Ring, and save you! If it wasn't for Sam, I would have failed, and now you banish him for saving my life again!"  
  
"That's quite enough, master Baggins," said the Leader of the Council, silencing him with a wave of his hand. "We know full well what the accused previously did. Do you forget that you too are in a foreign land? You might be banished along with your kinsmen. We have executed men for less than what they committed."  
  
Frodo could say no more. Seeing this, the Leader continued.  
  
"Masters Brandybuck and Took, you shall be escorted to the borders of this land tomorrow. From there you may take whatever path you wish, as long as it does not lead back to Gondor. Master Gamgee, you will remain in the service of Master Baggins until he is ready to return home. Once you cross the border on that journey, you may not return."  
  
He nodded to the guards, and they escorted the four crushed hobbits from the room. As he watched their bent heads disappear through the closing doorway he delicately fingered a gold coin in the pocket of his robes, smiling evilly to himself as he thought of the thirty-nine more secured safely around his waist, hidden from Faramir's sorrowful gaze.  
  
~  
  
A dark hooded figure slunk silently down a hall in the palace, looking for a certain door. Ah! There it was! Set deep in, it was easy to miss if one didn't know where it was. But this person was very familiar with this door. He pulled a key from the folds of his cloak and turned it silently in the lock, pushing the door open on noiseless hinges.  
  
All was still inside. The hobbits were conveniently occupied with receiving their 'sentence' at a trial bribed into occurring one day too early so the King would not be present.  
  
The figure slithered around the room, looking for a pouch he knew contained herbs used for making a special tea, a tea only Frodo Baggins was acquainted with. It was easy to find.  
  
'These hobbits are too obvious,' thought the figure as he removed the pouch from inside the teakettle. He sat down and opened it in his lap, the soothing fragrance drifting up to settle in his nostrils.  
  
"Too bad I have to ruin this lovely tea with a little dried something," the figure whispered to himself gleefully. "All it needs is a little water."  
  
He took out a small vial and dumped the brown, powdery contents into the bag, mixing it thoroughly with the tealeaves, chuckling all the while. When he had assured himself it was well blended, he smelled it again. Ha! Nothing could give it away. The Keeper returned the bag to the kettle and whisked out of the room, leaving nothing to indicate he had ever been there.  
  
~*~  
  
Merry mechanically placed his one and only spare shirt in his bag, sighing as he turned to see how his cousin was faring. Pippin sat staring blankly into space, empty bag in his hands.  
  
"How could it come to this?" he asked no one in particular, and Merry shrugged his shoulders, coming over to put an arm around Pippin.  
  
"I suppose this is why Frodo lost his finger, Mer."  
  
Merry looked at him quizzically.  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, and Pippin explained it to him.  
  
"Isildur, a Man, didn't get rid of the Ring in the first place. A hobbit found it, a hobbit destroyed it, and now it's hobbits that are banished from the land of Men. If a hobbit had the Ring in the first place, it would have been destroyed long ago, and Frodo never would have inherited it or gone on this quest, thereby never loosing his finger."  
  
Merry stared at him blankly.  
  
"That makes absolutely no sense, Pip," he sighed. "What does it have to do with our present situation?"  
  
"Nothing at all," smiled the younger hobbit, attempting to be cheerful. "That's why I said it."  
  
Merry rolled his eyes, searching through his pockets for his pipe. His fingers came across something rather different.  
  
"Pippin!" he gasped, pulling it from his pocket. "It's Gandalf's letter!"  
  
"Open it!"  
  
Merry quickly slit the envelope with a knife and pulled out the letter, bringing it over to the firelight to read.  
  
"What does it say?" asked Pippin excitedly. Merry's widening eyes scanned the page quickly.  
  
"Tomorrow," he said at last, "We're not going heading to the Shire."  
  
"Why not?" gasped Pippin. He could hardly believe his ears. If they weren't going to the Shire, then where were they going? Certainly not back to Gondor, or to Mordor.  
  
"Because we're going to Rivendell, to meet Gandalf," Merry said decisively.  
  
"Why?" Now Pippin was more confused than ever.  
  
"The letter didn't say exactly, but apparently something's happened. Something very serious indeed."  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo wearily opened the door to his room and trudged inside, followed by a heartbroken Sam. The sun was setting blood red on the western horizon, and its dimming rays hurled a tide of scarlet through the window to lie dying in its misery on the floor. The fire had died down in the fireplace, but neither of the hobbits seemed to notice it, or care.  
  
Frodo staggered to a chair and slumped down into it, resting his chin in his elbow on the armrest. Sam came up quietly behind him and draped a blanket over his sagging shoulders, sighing. Out of habit, he stoked the fire until it was burning mockingly bright in the over-sized recess of its abode. He then removed the pouch of herbs from the teakettle and set the water on to boil.  
  
They had left Merry and Pippin a short while ago to solemnly pack their few possessions in preparation for tomorrow. Sam didn't know what was in his master's mind, but he himself wanted to leave tomorrow with their friends. What good was it doing them to stay here anyways? True, they were waiting for the arrival of the party from Rivendell, but why should they stay if Merry and Pippin weren't there beside them? They had been split apart once, and Sam couldn't bear the uncertainty again. What if something happened to them and he wasn't there to help?  
  
He couldn't stand the suspense any longer.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" he asked quietly. Frodo's only response was a muffled grunt signaling him to continue. Sam suddenly remembered Frodo's outburst earlier and his wavering courage failed him. He mumbled instead  
  
"Would you like some tea?"  
  
"Yes, please," Frodo replied softly.  
  
Sam spooned two spoonfuls of the tealeaves into his master's cup, swirling them around until the water turned just the shade Frodo liked best. He placed the steaming cup into his friends' hands, and Frodo sipped it quietly.  
  
"Sam," he asked, "Why do you stay?"  
  
The hobbit in question stared, dumbfounded.  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, studying Frodo's face. The madness had left it a long time ago, indeed, Sam hoped it had gone for good. Now, his strained face was filled with remorse and self-blame.  
  
"Why do you serve such a terrible master like me?" he whispered.  
  
Sam's heart broke at the false self-accusation.  
  
"You're not a terrible master!" He reassured soothingly. "You're the best master, the best friend anyone could ever hope for!"  
  
"No, I'm not!" Frodo's voice broke like a child's and a single tear escaped and ran down his cheek.  
  
"Look at me. I caused the three best hobbits in the Shire to nearly die on a quest, and now I've caused everyone to be banished from Gondor. I testified at the council! I'm a..I'm a traitor." He hung his head in shame and stared down at his teacup. Sam remembered when Frodo in his madness had called him a traitor.  
  
"If you are, then so am I," said Sam simply.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Frodo asked in a strange voice.  
  
"Do you remember when you called me a traitor in your cell?"  
  
Frodo nodded sadly, his face turned away.  
  
"Oh, please not that too!" he gasped. Sam noticed his hands were shaking.  
  
"It was partially true," Sam confessed. "I was angry at you for hitting me when you were mad, and.." Sam's voice faltered. Perhaps now was not the best time to try and explain.  
  
"And what?" Frodo asked, still facing the opposite direction. Sam was in too deep to stop now.  
  
"Oh, please forgive me sir, I wasn't thinking right. I didn't visit you for so long because I..didn't..I..wan..I wanted you to be there," Sam finally blurted out. Frodo's reaction was a complete surprise.  
  
He leapt from his chair and spun around, grabbing Sam by the vest.  
  
"What did you say?" he nearly yelled. A strange light was in his eyes, and his brow was creased in anger. This was not the Frodo Sam knew.  
  
"What did you say?" demanded Frodo again, and seeing Sam's hesitation, slapped him across the face. Sam gasped and tried to pull away, but some hidden power gave Frodo enough strength to hold fast to his clothing. Sam's face stung where Frodo had slapped him. Was Frodo having another fit? No, it couldn't be. Although he appeared terribly angry, the same wild, uncontrolled glaze was not present in his furious eyes.  
  
"Did you say you wanted me to be there?" Frodo asked, shaking Sam. The only thing he could do was nod. Frodo slowly released him, allowing Sam time to back away.  
  
"Mister Frodo.." He began, but was rudely interrupted.  
  
"It's Master Frodo," Frodo hissed, and grabbed him again, this time by the arm. "Don't you know your place?"  
  
Sam was dumbfounded. He had never seen Frodo act this way before. He had never dreamed it possible. But it was.  
  
"I said don't you know your place?" Frodo asked again in a low voice. "Answer me!"  
  
"Y.yes," Sam gasped, and Frodo slapped him again, harder.  
  
"And what is it?" He yelled.  
  
"I'm your gardener," Sam croaked, tears beginning to form behind his eyes. They weren't from the physical abuse, they were from the words Frodo was saying to him. This couldn't be his friend saying these things.  
  
"Crying, are you, Sam?" Frodo mocked, an evil light in his eyes. "I'll give you something to cry about!" And he threw him to the floor.  
  
Sam backed up, his eyes wide with terror as Frodo advanced. He stopped suddenly, his back against the wall. Now there was no escape. Frodo grabbed him by his collar and hauled him to his feet, slamming him against the wall so hard his teeth chattered in his skull.  
  
"My gardener should learn his place," Frodo said in a low voice. "Since he dosen't know it, he'll have to learn the hard way."  
  
"Please, Frodo," begged Sam, a request only earning him another hard slap, and another backhanded across his other cheek. Frodo ground Sam's shoulders into the wall hissing  
  
"What did you do to me?"  
  
"I.don't know.." Broke Sam, his voice catching in his throat.  
  
"Yes you do!" Frodo pulled back his fist and drove it hard into Sam's stomach, causing his breath to rush out of his lungs with a loud whoosh! He would have doubled over, but he was still being held against the wall. He shut his eyes against the pain and tried to focus on something, anything else.  
  
"You know what you did to me, traitor!" said Frodo. "Tell me, what was it?"  
  
Sam was still trying to catch his breath and wasn't able to answer right away. He was struck across the face again, this time with Frodo's fist.  
  
"I.I left you." Sam panted, and a slow smile spread across his master's distorted features.  
  
"Yes, that's right. And where did you leave me?"  
  
"In the dungeon."  
  
"Right again," Frodo said. "You're catching on fast, Samwise."  
  
Hearing his full name suddenly brought to Sam a wave of anger. Frodo had no right to be doing this to him! Why had he put up with it so long? Sam wrenched himself away from Frodo's grasp, and with a cry of fury his master sprang after him.  
  
Sam tried to leap away, but somehow Frodo was faster. He caught him by the shoulder and spun him around, shoving him to the ground.  
  
"Don't you dare try and run away from me again!" he roared, kicking Sam in the shin.  
  
"I'm sorry." gasped Sam as he tried to back away. His retreat earned him a volley of kicks and blows from his master, accompanied by names.  
  
"Traitor! Liar! Dog!" The words stung more painfully than the throbbing bruises. Sam didn't know how long he could hold out. All he could do was curl up in a ball and try to protect his head, which of course left a whole new side exposed.  
  
"Stop, please stop!" He begged at last, and magically the rain of torment ceased.  
  
"I have stopped," said Frodo sweetly, dragging Sam to his feet by the hair. "I'll let someone else finish the lesson for me."  
  
He grabbed Sam by the arm and marched him, stumbling through the darkened corridor lit by an occasional torch flickering dimly on the soot-blackened wall. Sam was seeing spots before his eyes by the time they reached their destination.  
  
"Welcome, welcome," said the hooded figure who let them in to the dungeon. "What may I do for you?"  
  
Frodo shook Sam roughly.  
  
"I have a traitor here who needs to be taught a lesson. Unfortunatly I have not the tools with which to deal it out."  
  
"I have just the thing," said the man with a cruel laugh. "Follow me."  
  
He grabbed a torch and led the two deeper into the tunnels and passageways underneath the earth, unlocking a cell door and herding them inside.  
  
"This is just the place," he advertised with t flourish. "Far enough away that hs cries won't be heard, and close enough to be able to carry him out when he's unconscious."  
  
Sam's eyes widened in horror as the man held his arms while Frodo removed his vest, then his shirt, exposing his bare back and chest to the torch light.  
  
"No!" He whispered as the man tied his hands together, threading the end of the rope through a large loop hanging from the ceiling.  
  
Then the man pulled a long, black snake from the folds of his cloak and cracked it sharply in the air. Frodo stepped back and folded his arms, apparently watching the scene with pleasure. He nodded to the man, and the torture began.  
  
One, two, three the whip slashed across Sam's naked back, burning it with fire and scaring his soul with shame. He had never known such pain before, such searing awful pain. And Frodo was letting it happen. He was actually enjoying watching his best friend be tortured. He, the loving master Sam had known in the Shire, had sentenced Sam to this atrocity.  
  
Sam threw his head back and screamed, not so much from the agony of body, but from the breaking of his gentle heart. And the whip gouged on, sending red blood coursing freely from the raw wounds.  
  
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Sam gasped for air. He didn't know how long he would remain conscious. The man stopped, apparently his arm was tired, and Sam sagged against the rope holding his arms high. The tears were flowing hotly from Sam's burning eyes. He wanted nothing more than to hide. He was so ashamed!  
  
'I'm finally getting what I deserve,' he thought bitterly. 'But I tried so hard to be a good servant! I thought I was doing the right thing.'  
  
"Hello Sam." Frodo tilted Sam's chin up, searching his face for something. Sam shifted his eyes to the floor, humiliated to the point where he could no longer look his sneering master in the eyes.  
  
"Ashamed?" Frodo asked evilly. "Good, you should be. Tell me, are you sorry for what you did?"  
  
"Yes!" Sam burst out. "I'm sorry!"  
  
"You're sorry, what?"  
  
Couldn't he understand? Sam knew Frodo was his master! Why did he need Sam to say it every time?  
  
Frodo held his hand out to the man and took the whip from him, cracking it once in the air for practice.  
  
"It seems you still haven't learned," he sighed, and flogged Sam across his already torn back.  
  
"I'm sorry, master!" Sam sobbed. This couldn't be happening. Not Frodo! Having him beaten was enough, but to do it himself? Sam was crying now, and still the whip scourged on.  
  
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Sam's head slumped forward on his chest, and he knew no more.  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
Note: I might not be able to update for a week or so. Sorry, but you'll have to get used to it. Stupid school..*grumble grumble pout* In the meantime, please tell me what I can do to improve my writing style. 


	12. Two Masters

Chapter 12 Two Masters Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
**To all my reviewers: Thanks for revewing!! Sorry that I couldn't update sooner, I've been sick. But I should be able to update more frequently, once I get my schedule organized. Hope you stay posted!  
  
endymion2: Yes, Aragorn is acting out of character, with a reason yet unrevealed. Everyone seems a little odd, except Merry and Pippin. We're going to see the 'extreems' of the characters' character a lot now, namely in two specific hobbits, hee hee.  
  
Iorhael: I don't know what is up with the Keeper and tea, but we haven't seen the last of it! He should find some other ways to accomplish his ends, but maybe this is the only thing that is discrete enough to work. We still have a lot to learn about him. (You can't exactly find out about him in the books..)  
  
elfitchick: Wow. Reviewing after 8 hour clinics! I commend you. Sorry if I didn't meet your expectations. Oh well, hope you like this chapter.  
  
Shire Baggins: Ahh, the tea-drug again! What's up with this guy and tea? He's a strange man, and very evil. And I agree, Aragorn had better wake up! But what if he isn't even in Minas Tirith?! J/K, we'll see what happens. This Keeper guy has many connections.  
  
motormouth0128: Hi! Glad you like, no, love my story! If you like this, you might want to check out my other stories too. They're not nearly as long, and humorous. Hope you keep on reviewing!  
  
Last Time: Merry and Pippin were exiled, and Frodo beat up Sam.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Frodo stood behind the unconscious Sam, chest heaving and bloody whip in his hand. Slowly, the fire died from his eyes and horrible realization of what he had done consumed his mind. He backed up slowly, trembling, staring at the whip in his hand. What had he done? By the Valor, what HAD he done? Terrible anguish flooded his head, and he staggered away, dropping the whip to the floor.  
  
He was shaking uncontrollably now as he stared in terror at the wounds he had inflicted upon his loyal friend. He remembered no logic, only massive, all consuming anger controlling his actions. Not once had he considered or even thought on what he was doing. Yet it had been done all the same.  
  
Frodo woke from his stupor of shock and grief and sprang forward, cutting Sam's bonds and gathering him into his arms as he melted to the floor.  
  
~  
  
The Keeper stood back in the shadows, watching silently. It was going better than he had expected, but he couldn't stay long to gloat over his achievement. The drug's effects had been consumed, and now that Frodo was once more in control of his actions there was no telling what he might do to the Keeper who whipped his servant.  
  
'Ha!' he thought to himself as he slinked silently out of the room. 'It's not what he's going to do to me, oh no! It's what he's going to do to himself that I must now instigate. But first, I shall make sure the other two hobbits are well on their way to Rivendell, before they find out what happened.'  
  
~  
  
Frodo sat helpless in the dungeon, Sam's head in his lap, tears dropping to mingle with Sam's own dried ones. He couldn't think. He didn't know what to do. His entire world was flooded with bitter grief. He brushed a stray curl from Sam's inert forehead and noticed a dark bruise stamped cruelly across his simple features.  
  
"Oh Sam," whispered Frodo, sobbing anew. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."  
  
'Well, if you're really sorry, what are you going to do?' The thought came from nowhere, but it appeared his sense was finally returning.  
  
"I'll..I'll..oh I don't know!" Frodo cried aloud to the walls.  
  
'He can't very well sit here all night. His wounds need to be taken care of!'  
  
Frodo's mind was suddenly made up.  
  
"I'll take you to the Houses of Healing!" He told his senseless friend with a slight ray of hope. He gently laid Sam's head on the ground and delicately pulled his shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned. He noticed for the first time how loosely Sam's clothes fit his diminished frame; a result of the many meals he had gone without on the Quest in order that Frodo could eat instead. A tide of sickening anguish and guilt washed on his fragile shore of turmoil, but he brushed it aside, for now.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam," he said softly, "but I'll have to hurt you in order to carry you. If there was any other way, I would take it."  
  
He hesitantly cradled Sam in his arms, one pressing his injured back and the other beneath his knees and made his way as quickly as he could out of the dungeon. His arms were trembling with the effort by the time he had returned to the castle hall, and he stopped for a moment to rest. To his horror, when he drew away his arms they were stained crimison and reeking with the sticky smell of hot blood.  
  
The sight of it finally broke the remaining thread holding his emotions together, and he wept like a child, moaning from the pit of his soul. He hugged his knees and rocked slowly back and forth before Sam's unmoving body, killing himself inside.  
  
'I don't deserve to live,' he thought accusingly. 'I should be banished and never come back. Sam will hate me forever because of this. I don't deserve to be his master.'  
  
An idea suddenly came to Frodo's mind.  
  
'That's it!' he thought. 'I won't be his master anymore. Sam's free of me at last!'  
  
"Did you hear that, Sam?" Frodo asked, a new resolve strengthening him for the last spurt of his 'journey.' "You're free of me. You can finally go your own way."  
  
Frodo took up his burden once more, padding down the unending hallway, sicker at heart than he had ever felt in his life.  
  
~*~  
  
Merry and Pippin stood guarded beside a pony at the boarded-up gates to the city at sunrise, waiting anxiously for any sign of Frodo and Sam. They had promised to meet them there last night to possibly join them, so where were they?  
  
Pippin glanced nervously at the guards assigned to escort them from Gondor, and caught a reprimanding stare from their cold eyes. These weren't the guards Pippin had become accustomed to. He wondered where the friendlier ones had gone, and why. Surely Aragron wasn't so blind as to not notice the obvious change.  
  
The young hobbit averted his thoughts to a cloaked figure striding rapidly down the path towards them, waving a parchment frantically. Merry straightened beside him and called out to the man.  
  
"How may we help you, good sir?" he asked as the figure, still invisible inside his dark black hood approached them, breathing heavily.  
  
"I'm sorry to send you off so soon," he said, "but here is an urgent message from the King!"  
  
He thrust the paper into Merry's hand and Pippin watched his cousin's face pale as he read. He couldn't resisit ths time, and peeked over Merry's shoulder.  
  
To Masters Meriadoc and Peregrin,  
  
It is with greatest urgency and utmost speed that I implore you to  
make with great haste for Rivendell. Your dear cousin Frodo has had  
another attack, an attack so severe I must send you to summon Gandalf  
from Rivendell. I received a letter from Gandlaf this morning in  
which he informed me he has met with success. However, it also hinted  
he is not able to return just yet. Once more I implore you. If you  
wish to save Frodo's life, you must do this deed.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
King Elessar (which had been scratched out)  
  
Strider  
  
A trembling Merry handed the letter back to the figure, who refused to take it.  
  
"Let us go see Frodo!" Merry half implored, half demanded.  
  
"No, no!" The figure insisited. "The more time you waste the worse his condition becomes."  
  
"But what happened to him?" Pippin cried in anguish, unwilling to be satisfied by a simple refusal.  
  
"But what of the King? Surely he can do something!" Merry said desperately. "After all, he is the greatest healer in Gondor!"  
  
The figure shook his head.  
  
"Apparently this is beyond his aid. The only cure rests with Gandalf, and the longer we sit here in conversation the further away he gets!"  
  
Pippin and his cousin were still not convinced.  
  
"When did Frodo have his attack?" merry pried suspiciously. There was something fishy about the whole thing. Why didn't Strider go after Gandalf himself? Everyone knew he was the faster rider. Why didn't he just send Frodo to And why did he send a messenger, instead of coming in person? Who WAS this messenger anyways?  
  
Merry was about to voice some of his questions when a tall elf on horseback rode swiftly up to meet them, a dwarf riding behind him. The pair was accompanied by two other men also on horseback.  
  
"Legolas! Gimli!" cried Pippin. "What..."  
  
"No time for explanations, young hobbit," said the dwarf gruffly. "We heard of Frodo's plight and have come to join you on your way to Rivendell."  
  
Merry and Pippin stood speechless, and one of the men spoke up. His voice was familiar.  
  
"A pony won't get you to Rivendell fast enough," said Faramir. "Come, Master Meridoc. Ride behind me. My good friend Beregond will take you, Master Pippin."  
  
Legolas sighed upon seeing their hesitant reactions, and swinging down, he set each hobbit upon their appointed saddle, tossing their sacks up to them.  
  
"We have not a moment to spare," he said, and with a nod to the company he checked his horse and bounded away, the others following him on a false quest.  
  
~  
  
The Keeper watched them go, smiling ruthlessly behind his hood. Perfect! Now, everyone who cared anything for the hobbits was out of the way. Nothing would hinder him from the rest of his malicious plan.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam's eyelids fluttered open weakly. Where was he? He was laying on his stomach in an incredibly soft bed in a brightly-lit room. It was early morning, and the sunlight shone in brightly, hurting his blue eyes. He didn't notice the pain much, considering the fire burning dully across his back. Was someone crying?  
  
Sam turned his head painfully, the muscles of his neck twisting in agony, and much to his surprise he beheld Frodo kneeling at the edge of the bed, his face buried in Sam's sheets. His shoulders shook as muffled sobs racked his body and his thin hands twisted the bedclothes around and around, nearly tying them in knots.  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
Frodo's head jerked up, and their eyes locked. Sam had never seen Frodo so distraught. All sign of peace and joy had vanished from his dull eyes, which were red and swollen from weeping. His face was contorted with pure sorrow and his chin was trembling with grave emotion.  
  
He sucked in his breath sharply upon seeing the pain in Sam's face, and burrowed himself again into the sheets.  
  
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm so, so sorry."  
  
Sam was confused. He struggled hard to recall what had happened to cause his master such distress, and slowly the agonizing events of the night before returned to his mind. Frodo suddenly seemed to come to himself, and he pulled away, turning from Sam and kneeling sideways on the floor, his face in his hands.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" asked Sam again, hoping to call him back. Upon hearing the title of respect, Frodo shook his head violently.  
  
"Please," he begged, "I don't deserve to be addressed as 'mister.' "  
  
"I..I don't understand," said Sam, perplexed. Although he was somewhat angry, he wanted more than anything to comfort this wretched creature. Frodo returned slowly to the bed, keeping his eyes away from Sam's, and said hesitantly  
  
"I'm not your master anymore. You're free at last, Sam."  
  
A rush of despair suddenly enveloped Sam, and still in his weakened condition, he slipped back into darkening oblivion.  
  
~  
  
"How is he faring?" The soothing voice of a Healer behind him caused Frodo to jump in surprise. Once he had assured himself of the speaker's identity, he moaned softly to himself and hid yet again in the bed sheets.  
  
"You are his guardian, are you not?" the man asked again upon receiving no answer.  
  
"I suppose so," Frodo replied finally. "But I don't deserve to be. It's my fault. I did this to him."  
  
Frodo felt a vial slipped into one of his hands, and he looked at it in surprise.  
  
"What's this?" he asked thickly, inspecting it curiously. It was small, made of clear glass, and contained a brownish powder.  
  
"It's to lessen the pain," the Healer explained. "Mix it with ointment and rub in onto his back, or dissolve it into a drink whenever he needs it. Here, let me show you once."  
  
The man turned to his cart, the one all Healers pulled behind them containing the items of his trade such as bandages, medicines, and surgical tools. He lifted the lid of a jar, spooning two scoops of a whitish lathery ointment into a bowl. He then pinched a small finger of the powder into the ointment and mixed it in, Frodo watching him with half-interested eyes.  
  
Setting down the bowl at the bedside, the Healer turned to Sam and folded back the covers, gently revealing his whip-lashed back. It was the first time Frodo had seen the results of last night's terror, and his tears came anew. To think he had done this to Sam, of all hobbits! He, Frodo, had beaten and foul-talked the sweetest, most loyal person he knew! He longed to run from the room, but the Healer was still trying to show him something.  
  
"One rubs the ointment on gently," he was saying as he spread the mixture over Sam's ugly, raised welts. "You needn't worry about it coming off. It soaks into the wound instantly."  
  
Indeed, Frodo noticed that once the medicine touched the wounds, it disappeared.  
  
"I administered it to him now," the Healer explained, "because in a few minutes he shall wake again, in greater pain than before." He put a hand on Frodo's shoulder comfortingly. "If he does or says things abnormal, it is because of the pain. Do not worry."  
  
He handed the vial back to Frodo and said  
  
"Don't forget it can be administered in many ways. I only showed you one, so be creative. Once you run out, return it to me and I will refill it. Mind though that you return it only to me, and not to another Healer. Although their intentions are good, they know not the patient and would likely give you something ineffective. I shall return in an hour to see how he is faring."  
  
With a flutter of robes the Man was gone, pushing his cart from the room. Frodo set the vial down on Sam's bedside table and sobbed until he fell asleep with his dark head resting near Sam's curly blonde one.  
  
~  
  
Sam awoke to find Frodo fast asleep, his hair nearly in Sam's nose. Sam snorted in disgust and slapped him away, causing Frodo to fall backwards, awakened rudely. He sat up in surprise, still trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes and found Sam glaring at him in anger.  
  
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" snapped Sam. Full remembrance of the torture had come back to Sam, and with it the fury and injustice of the treatment.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam," Frodo said sincerely, tears coming once more to his reddened eyes. "I don't know what I meant by it. I...I'm sorry." He whispered the last phrase with a downcast expression, and slowly Sam remembered what he had said earlier.  
  
"So you've dismissed me?" he asked hopefully, and Frodo nodded in grief and shame.  
  
"Yes, you're free now, but before you..leave, I..." He stopped and caught his breath before continuing. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you would for."  
  
"Forgive you?!" Sam nearly shouted. "Do you know what you did to me?"  
  
Frodo nodded again, pain searing through his wide eyes, and Sam snorted.  
  
"Why should I forgive you?" he asked, awaiting a pitiful response. Now it was Frodo's turn to be wounded.  
  
"I..no, you shouldn't," the hobbit confessed at last. "But perhaps there's something I can do to earn it? I mean, I know nothing can atone for what I've done, but I can't..oh, I don't know!"  
  
Frodo's eyes darted around frantically, searching in his mind for anything and everything he could possibly do to ease his guilt and gain some hint of forgiveness from Sam. Simple, helpful things weren't going to be enough for this atrocity. It had to be something large enough to atone for what he had done.  
  
'Will you really be satisfied if you try to EARN his forgiveness, without him giving it freely?' Frodo thought, realizing the truth behind the fact. But still, he had to try.  
  
"If only there was something I could do to help." he began, and suddenly a familiar object on Sam's hand caught the light of the sun, glinting an idea into Frodo's despondent mind. Yes, this would do. It was big, and desperate enough. He opened his mouth and was about to speak, but logic stopped him for a second.  
  
'Do you realize what you would be doing?' it said. 'Giving up your freedom, your inheritance, your home. Isn't that a little bit too much?'  
  
'NO!' Frodo decided. It was fine, for now.  
  
"Sam," he spoke up faintly. "There's nothing I can do to erase what I've done. I betrayed you. I...beat you and said things so far from the truth no ocean could fathom the distance. Now, I beg you to accept my proposal."  
  
Sam looked at him curiously, obviously anticipating what Frodo would say next. But Frodo found he couldn't say it. A lump the size of an apple had formed in his throat, and his voice broke as he opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"I...I'm not your master anymore, as I've already told you. You're free of my wicked demands, but I wanted..I, would like to..I mean."  
  
Frodo abruptly took Sam's right hand and removed a silver ring from the littlest finger, a ring Sam had worn for as long as Frodo could remember. It was Sam's symbol of social status, and was worn by all hobbit-servants in the Shire. He placed it quickly around his own finger and put Sam's hand on top of his bowed head, the well-known act of placing oneself in servitude. Sam's eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"I want to serve you, Master Gamgee," Frodo said softly, the tears rolling down his pale cheeks. "I want you to be my master."  
  
Sam was speechless. He stared at Frodo's humble form and then at the white line encircling his tanned finger where his ring had always been. It felt as though it was still there, but he could see it standing out starkly on Frodo's pale, isolated pinky beside the whitened stump of his third finger.  
  
His thoughts were in turmoil. The real Sam would have of course refused such a preposterous suggestion with much blushing, but the drug caused him to take Frodo's two hands in his own, holding them at the wrists in an acceptance of his servitude.  
  
"Very well," he said proudly. "I am your master from now until I release you from my service. You must promise to obey and serve me diligently and without fail, or there WILL be consequences."  
  
He remembered when Frodo had said those same words, blushing, in Bag End, many years ago upon receiving the trinket. Then he had made it obvious they were for ceremony only, and that he had no intention of carrying out any 'consequences.' But now all of that had changed. Sam removed his hand from Frodo's wrists, but before he could withdraw entirely, his new servant grasped it firmly and said  
  
"I will serve you, Master Gamgee, diligently and without fail, until my dying day, or until you release me. I am in your service."  
  
He dropped Sam's hand and backed away silently, dazed it seemed by what he had just done. That, of course would not be tolerated.  
  
"Frodo!"  
  
Frodo's head snapped up eagerly, awaiting his first command.  
  
"Look sharp! Some water, if you please."  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Frodo humbly, and launched into his duties.  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	13. If Only

Chapter 13 If Only Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Sorry this is so short.  
  
yellowrose: Hello! I'm glad you're looking forward to more hobbit angst and woe. You won't be disappointed! I like to read and write too, and I love Frodo and Sam. I just read On Borrowed Time, and it is sooo good! Very beautiful! I'm trying to show the true characters of F and S, but for now I have to stray just a little in order to make a great ending. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope you'll keep reviewing! motormouth0128: I tried to email you, but my message got sent back to me! Will you give me another, and I'll try to re-send it? Thanks!  
  
Frodolover: I don't blame you for not really liking Frodo being Sam's servant. It's not right. Something's fishy about the whole thing. Hope you stay tuned!  
  
Arwen Baggins: Well, about how long it will take, I don't really know. But it won't be twenty chapters. More like, oh, maybe three to five. We'll see.  
  
Elfitchick: I know this is a sad story for you, especially when you're used to reading humor. I thank you for reading it though.  
  
Shire Baggins: Haha, I like the slugging it out idea. If they weren't drugged, they wouldn't do this sort of thing, so I have to make them unaware and not in control of their actions to make the story interesting. I know it's hard to read something when it's out of character, but at least Frodo's acting in character.  
  
Endymion2: Yeah, this is a very potent drug. It only grows in Middle Earth, thank goodness, but I'm sure with all the medicine and stuff out there chemists wouldn't find it that hard to create. About Aragorn..stay tuned!  
  
Lily: I'm glad you think it's realistic! I tried to make it that way. Keep the Cheese Nips coming!  
  
AranelMaethlang: Thanks for reviewing! *blush blush* You really think this is one of the best hobbit stories? Wow. Saw your email address, thought you might be interested to know I'm in a Scottish Marching Band. Glad you like my story. Have you read anything by Mbradford? I think she writes some of the best hobbit stories.  
  
Coolio02: Glad you hate the Keeper. I think he's the awesome evil dude. Kinda stereotypical, but fun all the same!  
  
Last Time: Frodo released Sam and became his servant.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Gandalf sighed in frustration as he lunged once more for Shadowfax's reigns. The horse danced in front of him, slender, rolling muscles controlling every teasing, playful step.  
  
"Come on, boy," Gandalf wheezed through his teeth. Of all the delays, now this! Silly horse, couldn't he see the wizard was in a terrible rush? He had to get back to Frodo! A roaring guffaw behind him almost caused Gandalf to turn the man into stone.  
  
"You'll never catch him that way," his much sought after friend laughed. "That horse is too free-spirited. You'd best ride behind me until he decides to calm down!"  
  
Gandalf finally turned and stared his gray-haired, arrogant friend in the black eye.  
  
"You know your horse can barely support you, much less two of us. Shadowfax will let me ride him, won't you boy? You've been such a good."  
  
Shadowfax reared on his hind legs, milky tail arched high and twisted around, vanishing into a cloud of galloping brown dust.  
  
"..horse," Gandalf finished, muttering under his breath. He threw down his hat in impatience. Now he would have to walk the rest of the way, and there was no telling how many other delays he might encounter. Frodo might be..no, he couldn't think of that. The wizard would use every means in his power to get there as soon as possible.  
  
If only he could send a letter, explaining the delay! If only Gwaihir were here again.  
  
'If only never got anybody anywhere,' he reminded himself, and turned his face south.  
  
~*~  
  
The Keeper sat at table in his new house on the outskirts of the city. He had not been banished from the King's service, yet. However, he was still too cautious to prepare his poisons inside the vicinity of the King's palace. Using the mortar and pestle, he pounded his selected ingredients into powder. With each stroke, he imagined he was striking the fat hobbit again.  
  
Pound, crack! Pound, crack! The thud of his utensils striking each other blended with his memory of the sound the whip made as it lashed across the hobbit's back. What a pleasure it had been! And all the more when that Baggins fellow took over. That had been an unexpected turn of events, he reminisced.  
  
"Ha!" he said aloud, grinning to himself in pride. "The stupid fellow was so drugged he didn't even recognize me!"  
  
The Keeper glanced at the concoction he was mixing in mock doubt.  
  
"Perhaps I should make you slightly less toxic," he teased, laughing vilely. He shook his head.  
  
"No, that would never, never do," he scolded. "I must keep the fat hobbit evil until he leaves Gondor, and then ensure he stays evil until he reaches his northern home. Perhaps," he mused, "I could even keep him evil, forever!"  
  
His eyes drifted off, dreaming of all the terrible things he could do to the hobbits. But he returned reluctantly from his fantasy and sighed impatiently.  
  
"One step at a time," he told himself as he poured his powder into a clean vial, identical to the one he had given to Frodo earlier. "One baby step at a time."  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo sat up painfully, rubbing his sore shoulder. It had fallen asleep from lying all night on the cold stone floor, and now it tingled with tiny needle's pinpricks as he massaged the feeling back into it. It was still dark outside as he got groggily to his feet, feeling his way to the fireplace.  
  
"Ouch!" he hissed as his hip jammed into a hidden chair concealed in the darkness. Ach, it was cold! He blew on his hands, attempting to free them from their freezing stiffness. If only Sam would give him his coat back!  
  
Frodo knelt down in front of the hearth and stirred the ashes, revealing the glowing remnants of last night's coals. He added thin, crispy kindling and blew softly until a tongue of flame appeared, dwelling hesitantly for a second, and died. Frodo refused to let himself be discouraged and tried again, this time the flame living a little longer before disappearing, settling in to wait for Sam.  
  
Frodo glanced anxiously at the light outside his former bedroom's window and gasped in surprise. It was later than he thought! Sam would be waking any moment now, and would find the fire unlit, again. No! He wouldn't let it happen. Frodo kneeled again and resumed his efforts tenfold. To his great relief, the fire actually caught! He added small pieces and arranged the larger ones to allow air underneath them, and allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. At least it was one less thing he would be scolded about!  
  
Frodo was puzzled. He knew Sam would be angry, but he had never imagined his previously reserved gardener to have so much force in him! Or so much, revenge? Was that even a word for it? Sam was treating his new servant as the Sackville-Bagginses treated theirs; harshly, and with constant reminders of his 'place.' Frodo had never treated Sam that way, so where had he gotten the idea?  
  
Frodo yawned. A nice cup of something hot sounded so wonderful, a cup! Sam's tea! He had forgotten! Frodo leapt up and grabbed a bucket standing beside the door, heading outside to the well. It was even colder out here, and he shuddered, wishing he had remembered his cloak.  
  
He attached the handle of the bucket to the ice-cold hook on the well's rope, lowering the bucket down into the earth. He felt the rope go slack began hauling it up. Ugh! Why did the handle have to be so high? At the top of its turn, Frodo was nearly standing on tiptoes to be able to reach up and pull it down. The bucket had almost reached the top when laughter cut through the crisp morning air, aimed directly at him.  
  
"Ha! What's this?" A woman-servant ridiculed as she approached, a bucket in her hand also. Frodo felt his face redden, but he continued dragging his bucket up. The woman had reached the well and was leaning against its stone wall while watching Frodo's entertaining attempts.  
  
"Are you having some trouble, halfling?" she asked, pretending to be sympathetic.  
  
"I'm quite all right," answered Frodo stiffly as he unhooked the full bucket from the hook. The woman sounded offended.  
  
"Now, what have I done to upset you?" she asked, heaving her bosom angrily into Frodo's face.  
  
"You've done nothing," Frodo replied, deciding it was best not to provoke her any farther.  
  
"Oh? Then why did you give me a sour look?" She tapped her foot angrily and Frodo turned to head back. Sam was probably waiting for him by now. Oh, the bucket was heavy!  
  
Frodo was so absorbed in his thinking he failed to notice the woman until she had stopped firmly in front of him. Wham! He slammed into her legs, spilling half the bucket over his breeches and the front of her skirt. She screamed in surprise and anger, grabbing the bucket from him and dumped the rest of its contents over Frodo's head.  
  
Frodo gasped at the icy bath and shivered violently as the water ran in trickles down his spine. He wiped the water from his eyes and glared at the woman, who was now getting her own water as though nothing had happened. He sighed and sat down on his overturned bucket to wait his turn, shaking with the cold. If he thought it had been cold before, he had been deadly wrong!  
  
His teeth chattered together and his fingers were turning white when the woman finally finished.  
  
"Ha!" She said and cat one last triumphant glance back at the shivering hobbit. Strangely, Frodo felt no anger or vengeance towards her. Only sadness. He sighed as he once more drew his water. By the time he was finished, the sun was already casting a few pale beams into the courtyard.  
  
'Oh, Sam's going to be angry,' Frodo thought to himself as he finally started back to his master's chamber.  
  
~  
  
Frodo knew Sam would be angry, but he had no idea Sam could be THIS angry. As soon as he stepped into the room, Sam turned his face from the bed and glared at his servant with a vehemence that caused Frodo to shrink back in fright.  
  
"Where were you?" He demanded. "Why are you all wet?"  
  
"I was getting water, sir, and.." Frodo found he couldn't finish. Sam nodded in understanding.  
  
"Clumsy as usual," he sighed as Frodo poured water into the teakettle. Frodo was still shaking with cold, and now under the scrutiny of his master he spilled some water onto a shirt he had left to dry by the fire.  
  
Sam gasped and beckoned Frodo to come over to him. Frodo paled and set the unfortunate bucket down, approaching his master with hesitancy. He would be lectured, again, he knew, but what happened surprised him so much he just stood there in shock. Sam had smacked Frodo across the face.  
  
"Stupid!" He shouted. "I was goin' to wear that!" And he smacked Frodo again.  
  
Frodo felt tears come to his eyes at the pain of the punishment. He did not mention the linen shirt was Frodo's own. Both Sam and Frodo had shrunk because of the Quest, and now Sam was only slightly larger than Frodo's size when they had left the Shire. Because of the class change, Sam had insisted on appearing more dignified and had demanded to change clothes until he could purchase new ones.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," Frodo said as he picked up the wet article, his face still stinging from the blow.  
  
"Master," Sam emphasized. "Say 'I'm sorry, Master.'"  
  
"I'm sorry, master," said Frodo, humbled all the more. What had he been thinking when he had offered to become Sam's servant?  
  
'No,' Frodo thought as he prepared the tea. 'I did nothing wrong. It is Sam who is causing the problems.'  
  
'No!' retorted the other side of his brain. ' It was YOU who beat Sam in the first place! You deserve this punishment, and Sam is only doing what you did to him!'  
  
'But Sam is gentle! He's the humblest hobbit in the Shire! He would never do anything like this!'  
  
'Neither would you, but you did.'  
  
The thought stung more than the blows. He sighed to himself as a wave of anguish passed again through his heart, clutching his chest so hard with its red-hot hand that Frodo could barely breathe.  
  
"Look alive!" Sam snapped, jerking Frodo's attention back to his duty just in time to take the hissing teakettle from the fire.  
  
"Would you like."  
  
"Yes, and be quick about it. And don't spill!" Sam flopped on his belly and groaned softly.  
  
This was his first day away from the Houses of Healing. The two had been there a total of two full days, Frodo never leaving Sam's side except to fetch him food or water. Frodo hadn't given a thought to his own well being the entire time. He was so engrossed with guilt and remorse he had forgotten even to eat, and now his stomach rumbled, demanding to be fed.  
  
His head spun as he brought Sam his tea and helped him sit up to consume it.  
  
"Stop shaking!" Sam complained. "You'll spill it all, just like the water."  
  
Frodo backed up and waited until Sam seemed to have calmed down, then asked  
  
"Shall I fetch you breakfast, sir?"  
  
Sam nodded, and Frodo quickly made his way to the kitchens. He was expected. Evidently the word about their switching places had leaked out. Frodo grabbed the ready tray without bothering to see what was on it and returned to the room.  
  
He watched eagerly as Sam ate, hoping to be invited to share in the meal as he himself had always shared his with Sam. Frodo was sorely disappointed when Sam showed every intention of consuming it all. He was about to ask if he would be allowed to eat, but Sam anticipated the question and refused him harshly.  
  
"No, I'm not sharin' with you, No, I ain't plannin' on it, an' No! You may not have somethin' to eat. That's final."  
  
"But sir.."  
  
"I said NO!" Sam yelled, and threw his spoon at Frodo's face. He caught it before it struck, and stood looking at it stupidly. It still had some porridge on it.  
  
"Lick that, if you're so hungry!" Sam spat angrily, and tears of humiliation sprang uncalled for to Frodo's eyes. He had only seen dogs treated this way before. Even if he was Sam's servant, he was not his slave. Therefore, he did not deserve to be treated as such. Seeing Frodo's hesitation, Sam raised an eyebrow quizzically.  
  
"You don't want it, then?" he asked, and Frodo shook his head. "Very well. But remember when you're hungry later, I offered."  
  
"What you offered is not food," Frodo said softly in frustration, forgetting himself for a split second. "I may be your servant, but there is no need for these degrading antics. I never treated you this way..."  
  
"Shut your mouth!" Sam snapped, wrath seething through his brown eyes boring into Frodo's retaliating own. "Never, never talk back to me, you dog! I will treat you as I wish. I don't care if you treated me fair- like, once upon a time. You are mine now, MINE! Do you hear?"  
  
Frodo saw plainly that if he were any closer, Sam's tirade would have been punctuated harshly with stinging, vicious blows. All he could do was nod submissively, tears escaping the broken fence of his trembling eyelashes.  
  
'If only Sam would return to being himself!' Frodo thought. 'If only none of this had ever happened. Perhaps this tantrum will pass, and he will forgive me,' he thought with a ray of hope. 'I could never stand being treated this way forever.'  
  
~*~  
  
The plains of Rohan were a still, peaceful place. Unbroken, the endless sea of tall grasses waving goodbye in the evening breeze stretched for eternity, or at least as far as a hobbit's eye could see. Their bending and swaying resembled the pristine surface of a lone lake kissed by a rippling, skimming wind, awakening the surface into many shivers of tiny golden mountain peeks.  
  
The gently rolling hills were peppered with large boulders like hundreds of trolls who waited too long for the dawn; doomed to remain for centuries contemplating their fatal decision. It was truly a beautiful place, but for the young, exiled hobbit sitting behind a man on a galloping horse, it was agonizing torture.  
  
Pippin was jolted back to watchfulness again as the horse took one wrong step, causing his heavy eyelids to snap open with a cry of surprise. He bit his lip and tried to restrain a long-withheld sigh threatening to hiss between his clenched teeth. How long had they been riding? Was it a day, or two days? He had fallen asleep once, and was only just saved from a painful fall; barely. How much more could he stand?  
  
He glanced at Merry's jostling form not far from him and caught a pale face almost as anguished peeping blankly from the dark recess of his hood. Knowing someone else was experiencing a similar fate set Pippin's jaw in grim resolution. After all, this was nothing compared to his journey in captivity to Isengard. Why was he complaining about this little trip? The company now was infinitely better than last time.  
  
'Frodo!' he suddenly remembered in alarm, and a returning wave of familiar worry rushed in and swept away all remaining thoughts of his own personal comfort.  
  
'Here I am muttering about myself when Frodo and Sam are suffering worse than I! How selfish I am! I would have much rather stayed to be with them in Gondor, if only I hadn't been exiled.'  
  
His thoughts shifted from worry and self-rebuke to puzzlement.  
  
'Why did Aragorn let us be exiled?' Pippin wondered. 'He would never have such a thing done! He is too fond of us hobbits, and after all we've been through together! Why, I was at his side at the Last Battle, and he tended to my wounds himself! I am a Knight of Gondor, his friend! Why...'  
  
'Why do you think of yourself all the time?' his rational side chided, and the young hobbit was ashamed for his selfish thoughts. But he couldn't shake the bewilderment and unnaturalness from his mind. It loomed there like the annoying portrait of a stiff ancestor above the mantelpiece at home in Tookborough.  
  
'Home,' he breathed silently. 'After all this is over, I'm going straight home and curling up in bed for a nice, long, peaceful nap!'  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	14. Evenstar

Chapter 14 Evenstar Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. No one really does, considering the author is dead.  
  
Arwen Baggins: I know it's sad, but it has to get worse before it can get any better. Hope you like this chapter, named in your honor *bows*.  
  
Bookworm2000: Hi! Glad you like it. Sorry I can't update as fast. Yeah, if Sam did wake up in the middle of beating Frodo, I don't know what he would do. He won't though. The Keeper sees to that.  
  
yellowrose: No, Frodo's madness was not the Keeper's fault. It was a breakdown after the quest. He didn't even come into contact with the Keeper until after he got mad. If you're confused, don't worry! You're not alone!  
  
Lily: Hmm, natcho cheese nips, sorry, no take. I'm all for the plain flavored stuff. But I like anything cheese. Cheeze-its especially. I'm eating a chocolate shake from McD's right now, mmmm.  
  
Coolio02: Thanks for reviewing again! I wish I could update sooner, but I'm really busy.  
  
Frodolover: Well, we know the potion is really toxic. The only thing that will keep Sam from hurting Frodo is if he stops taking it. Unfortunatly, Frodo still thinks it is helping him. But he'll get a little suspicious in this chapter, you'll see.  
  
Endymion2: Yeah, it sure seems as though Minas Tirith is full of mean people. But it has good people too, as you'll see in this chapter.  
  
MBradford: Thanks for reviewing, even though you've been emailing me! I sure hope Merry and Pippin can help in some way, but who knows how long Sam will be 'stoned'? Frodo is pretty much set though.  
  
Linriel: Hi! Thanks for reviewing! Glad you like this story. I hope you like this next chapter. It has the wedding in it.  
  
AranelMaethlang: I updated my biography, so you can find out about me there. Wow, I'm honored that this is one of your favorite hobbit angst stories! Hope you keep reviewing!  
  
~  
  
**Note: WAAAAAA! I am in s..s..sc...hool...can't bring myself to say the horrible word. (I would use other choice words to describe it, but I'm too innocent to say them.) Soooo, regrettably I cannot update as frequently as I would like to. Finding time to write is a very, uh, difficult issue, considering the stupid computers in my comp lab don't save to my discs. UGHHHH. Crazy Marching Band schedule doesn't help either.but don't get me wrong! I love it. Parents that don't like Lord of the Rings is also an EXTREEMLY difficult point to maneuver around, especially when they don't let me go on the computer. Mainly, the delay is their fault.  
  
~  
  
Last Time: Ehhh, uh, Sam was being cruel to Frodo, we found out the Keeper is more involved than he should be, and oh yeah! We finally heard from Gandalf.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Anareth the Healer smiled contentedly to herself as she guided her cart among the rooms in the Houses of Healing, going about her morning rounds. She snapped out the crisp bed sheets and greeted the invalids warmly, making sure their smallest needs were satisfied. Anareth loved her duties. She was an excellent Healer, devoting her entire being to healing the sick.  
  
Her friendly gray eyes sparkled with merriment as she fondly patted the curly head of a small boy, sent in a few days ago with a terrible fever. His youthful pace was pale but content, and the healthy smile he beamed up at her filled her beautiful heart with a golden love. She was delighted to see he was on the mend, but had other patients to tend to.  
  
As she went her way, the recent memory of another child lingered unclear in her forehead, brought to light by the boy's blonde hair. There had been something different about this patient, she remembered, and she struggled to recall exactly what it had been.  
  
Ah! Now she remembered. It hadn't been a child. It had been on the halflings, the such of which her sister Ioreth had tended after the Battle outside the city.  
  
Tears came to her eyes as she recalled the night the halfling had come into her care.  
  
~  
  
Anareth was blowing out the lamp to retire to bed when a faint knock sounded on the door connecting to the castle.  
  
'Now who could that be?' she wondered as she groggily opened it. She gasped at the sight meeting her. A halfling stood on the doorstep cradling a limp, bleeding form in his arms. Tears flooded his anguished, pale face, and she noticed his arms were trembling with the weight of his friend.  
  
"Come in! Come in!" Anareth urged, almost pulling them inside. She took the injured halfling from the other and quickly laid him in bed, removing his bloodied clothing and drawing a basin of warm water to her. Thank goodness she had kept it warm for as long as she had!  
  
"Who is he?" she asked the unconscious halfling's distraught companion.  
  
"Sam, Samwise Gamgee," the halfling answered faintly. "What would you have me do?" He seemed most distressed over his friend, and very eager to help in any way possible.  
  
"In a moment," Anareth said as she cleaned his wounds, her mouth set in a grim line. She had never seen a halfling before; although their deeds were well known throughout the city, and had been hoping to one day catch a glimpse of one of them. Now, she wished they had met under more favorable circumstances, but that could not be helped.  
  
She knew one of these must have been the Ringbearer. She couldn't help being curious; knowing wounds such as these didn't come as the result of an accident.  
  
"What happened to him?" Her question only seemed to torment the other further, and he fell to his knees beside the bed and buried his face in the mattress, soulders shaking with silent sobs. Her heart broke at the sight and she knelt beside him, trying her best to soothe him.  
  
"There, there, he'll be all right! His wounds are not fatal!" She felt as though she was comforting a mere child. She had heard of the great love and devotion between the Ringbearer and his kinsmen, especially his servant. She had heard nothing could separate the two, even a dangerous journey into certain death.  
  
'That must be the Ringbearer!' Anareth thought to herself, eyeing the wounded halfling. 'And this poor fellow must be his loyal servant, terrified at the plight of his master. But who beat the Ringbearer so?'  
  
She gently raised the chin of who she thought to be the Ringbearer's servant and looked him firmly in the eye.  
  
"Your master will recover," she told him assumingly.  
  
"He's not my master," he said softly, shaking his head.  
  
"Then he is not the Ringbearer?" Anareth was embarrassed for making her faulty assumption, but she would not back down. "Who is he then, and who are you? What happened to him?"  
  
"I'm..Frodo Baggins, and this is Sam," he said as though ashamed of his own name. "As for what happened to him, I...I was angry, and..and..I beat him."  
  
"Oh!" exclaimed the shocked woman, everything becoming clear at once. How terrible! So this was the mad Ringbearer! He must have had another violent fit. She found herself pulling away from him as though he might attack her too, knowing his fits came involuntarily and at random. She didn't want to come away looking like Sam.  
  
Once she finished tending Sam's wounds she turned to Frodo.  
  
"Are you going to stay beside him tonight?" she asked, knowing the inevitable answer.  
  
"Of course," he said staring at his friend, terrible guilt slashed across his tear-stained face. Anareth nodded.  
  
"If there is anything you, or he needs, don't hesitate to call for assistance. There is always a Healer or two about tending to the patients at night. I'll let one of them know you are here, and she will come in to check on you as soon as she can."  
  
Frodo nodded and thanked her sincerely, his gaze never leaving Sam's prostrate form. As she left, she took one last backwards glance. The bent silhouette of the Ringbearer stood out black against the lone candle left to comfort him. She wished she could stay longer, but common sense told her she needed sleep in order to go about her daily routine tomorrow. She sighed and turned away.  
  
~  
  
Anareth hadn't seen the halflings since, but had gotten word of Sam's recovery and exit from the Houses. She had meant to visit them, but somehow or another she hadn't found the time.  
  
"Excuse me?" A small voice behind her caused Anareth to gasp. Startled, she spun around only to come face to face with Frodo.  
  
"Why, hello there!" she exclaimed in surprise, stunned to meet up with the very person she had been thinking of a moment ago. But he was different somehow than when she had last met him. Before she cold place her finger on the change, he spoke up.  
  
"I'm looking for a Healer," he said with downcast eyes, as though he shouldn't be speaking to her. "I was hoping you would know where to find him."  
  
Anareth kneeled down to examine Frodo more closely. Was that a bruise on his pale cheek? Obviously he hadn't been faring too well since their last visit.  
  
"Are you hungry?" she asked tenderly, the tightness of his cheeks and the dark shadows under his pained eyes revealing his ailment. His eyes widened in terror and he backed away quickly.  
  
"No!" he said strongly, but she saw how much it hurt him to lie. This wouldn't do at all.  
  
"I won't have you going off on a search until you eat something," she said firmly but kindly, spooning some hot porridge into a bowl.  
  
"No, I couldn't," he insisted. "My master has forbidden me.."  
  
"Your master?" She exclaimed in surprise. She had thought Frodo was the master. He nodded gravely.  
  
"Who is your master?" she asked him.  
  
"Sam," he answered simply. Now she was thoroughly confused.  
  
"But I thought."  
  
"We switched places," he explained, shifting nervously. "I really must be getting back. He would be angry if I was to be late."  
  
Anareth shook herself out of her stupor and shoved the bowl of food into Frodo's hands.  
  
"You're not going anywhere until you eat something," she said. "Surely your new master wouldn't mind if you ate, considering your present state."  
  
Frodo blushed slightly and peeked down at the contents of the bowl. She knew he wanted to eat, so why wouldn't he? He swallowed stiffly and returned the bowl to her.  
  
"I can't," he said. "My master forbade me to eat naught but what he gives me."  
  
Anareth tried to keep her face calm, but she knew something was horribly wrong. As little as she knew about halflings, she did know food was one of their passions. The kitchen staff had complained too much for her to miss that fact. Yet here was on refusing to eat even a little. And what did Frodo mean by switching places with Sam? The King must know about this, considering how high he held them in his favor.  
  
Anareth insisted again that he eat something, but Frodo stood fast. He was acting foolish. But the more time she wasted, the less time she would have to speak to the King, if she could get an audience with him. He had been terribly busy lately, but if it was about his friends, well, she could give it a try.  
  
"Would you mind if I spoke to the King about this?" she asked, but Frodo was gone. She sighed in frustration and searched around quickly, but he was nowhere in sight. OH well, she would speak to the King today, and if not today, tomorrow. He had to know about this before the situation got out of hand.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam opened his eyes and stretched. He felt better than he had in days. Perhaps he would be able to walk about today. A refreshing stroll in the gardens sounded lovely in his opinion. He had been cooped up too long, and what was worse he didn't seem to be able to recall any of the past few days. He knew they had occurred, but however hard he tried, he just didn't seem to remember them.  
  
A creak of rusty hinges focused his attention on the door, and he realized he was lying in Frodo's bed. Now why was that? He sat up stiffly and dangled his feet over the edge, eagerly awaiting whoever was coming in the door.  
  
"Frodo!" he exclaimed in delight, and gasped upon beholding his ragged appearance. "What happened to you?"  
  
He said nothing, simply going over to the fireplace and preparing a cup of tea. Sam leapt out of bed saying  
  
"No, let me do that for y." but the pain of the sudden movement caused him to inhale sharply, cutting off the rest of his intended sentence. Frodo was at his side in an instant, guiding him slowly to a chair.  
  
"You mustn't move around like that sir," he said quietly, spreading a blanket over Sam's lap. "You're still recovering."  
  
Sam glanced up in surprise at the title of respect, and Frodo set a steaming cup into his hands. Sam blushed from being waited on, and tried to get up again. It wasn't proper, a master waiting on a servant, especially when Frodo looked so tired. Frodo tried to suppress a cough, and Sam realized he was sick.  
  
"You're ill!" he exclaimed, and for the first time Frodo looked him in the eye. It was only for a brief second, but Sam knew he was suffering immensely.  
  
"You are more ill than I sir," Frodo said softly. "The healer said for you to drink the tea he sent. It will help you recover."  
  
"But what about YOU," Sam urged. He felt himself getting sleepy, and didn't want to fall asleep before Frodo was taken care of.  
  
"I'll be fine," Frodo said. "Don't trouble yourself about me."  
  
Sam shook his head. That was how it always had been in Bag-End. Frodo had always insisted he was well before coming down with something horrid. He never wanted anyone to worry about his well being.  
  
"The King's wedding is tomorrow," Frodo informed Sam. "If you don't get your rest you shan't be able to attend. The King would be most grieved, sir."  
  
"Why do you call me 'sir'?" Sam asked, puzzled.  
  
"Don't you remember?" Frodo asked in surprise, and Sam shook his head again.  
  
"Remember what?"  
  
Frodo paled, and Sam saw he was hesitant to speak of whatever had occurred. Oh well, it would have to wait. Sam's eyelids dropped closed from the effect of the medicine and he drifted off, slave to the Keeper's vile poisons.  
  
~*~  
  
Aragron threw up his hands in despair and shouted  
  
"Enough!" The room was instantly silent as all inhabitants waited breathlessly to see what the King would do next. It was their first time seeing the usually reserved man loose his temper.  
  
"If I don't take a break, I feel I shall go mad!" He exclaimed in frustration. "For the past three days you have all kept me cooped up in here with this and that. Papers and documents, maps and problems you can't solve yourselves..forgive me, but I'm only human."  
  
He rose from his chair and walked determinedly from the room, eleven pairs of eyes following his every move. Once he was gone, a Man nudged his friend in the ribs.  
  
"What was that all about?" he asked. His friend smiled and said  
  
"Wedding fever. He's nervous about his wedding."  
  
The Man grinned and nodded in understanding.  
  
~  
  
Aragorn muttered angrily to himself as he strode through the corridors, heading to the gardens. He hadn't had a spare moment in the past few days. It seemed as though his advisors had all picked now to approach him whenever he had a little time. He hadn't been able to see anybody, not the hobbits, not Legolas or Gimli, not even the elves who had arrived from Rivendell and Lothlorien yesterday. He had seen Arwen, his beautiful bride-to-be only twice since her arrival.  
  
He was going to change all that. He stepped outside and breathed in the refreshing air perfumed with the scent of many springtime flowers. As he strolled along the crisp, shell-lined paths in between the flowerbeds, he thought of Sam and his fascination with growing things.  
  
'If I'm ever near the Shire again,' he thought to himself while fingering a violet he had plucked from it's stem, 'I'll visit Bag End and see Sam's garden. Frodo's spoken of it so often I really must see it for myself.'  
  
He sat down on a stone bench in the shade and leaned his back against a tree, breathing the deep scent of earth and shade. Although he enjoyed his life at the palace, when it wasn't too busy, he still missed being in the open, being free. He missed roaming wherever he pleased, sleeping under the stars, living off the land.  
  
'I need a holiday,' he thought to himself. 'After our wedding, I think I will visit the lands to the north to make sure they are well protected. They also should know Gondor has a King, who will soon be re-uniting them.'  
  
He smiled to himself and twirled the flower through his fingers. Today, he wanted to visit everyone while he had the opportunity, namely Arwen and the hobbits. He hadn't seen them in days and missed them very, very much.  
  
He rose to his feet and headed inside, headed in the direction of the elf's quarters. He would visit Arwen and her father, then the hobbits.  
  
Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as Aragorn had intended. He was talking with Lord Elrond when urgent news from a Captain came in of some orc attacks near Ithilien, and he was pulled forcefully away, nearly cursing the busy life of a King as he reluctantly went.  
  
~*~  
  
The long-awaited day of the wedding came with much joy and festivities. At long last, the King Elessar and Queen Arwen were wed and the city rang with celebration. Frodo did his best to appear normal and happy at the banquet, but could not truly enjoy himself with Sam appearing flustered when Frodo got to sit at the table with him.  
  
Once the holiday was over, Frodo was back to his strict duties, with more than one painful reminder of his place. He was very disappointed and a little confused at how Sam was taking the change. He was being far too brutal to be behaving in his right mind, and Frodo wondered if perhaps he too had gone mad. But Sam seemed to be perfectly conscious of his actions, so Frodo began investigating different avenues.  
  
If he wasn't mad, maybe he was still angry. However, Frodo knew Sam couldn't be angry for weeks at a time. It was his nature to forgive and forget, not to hold grudges. Therefore, some outside force must be influencing him.  
  
Frodo puzzled and wondered over what kind of outside influence it might be during his rare spare time, mostly when Sam was asleep. He seemed to be sleeping a lot lately, a very unusual habit for the energetic hobbit. When he wasn't sleeping, he was in the gardens or ordering Frodo about.  
  
'Maybe it's all the sleep he's getting,' Frodo suggested to himself. 'Or maybe there's something in the gardens, some sort of strange flower that's making him sick. Or maybe it's something he ate.'  
  
Now more than ever he wished to return to the Shire. They had been away from home for so long. Perhaps leaving Minas Tirith would be good for Sam. Maybe returning to Bag End would remind Sam of all the good times he had had with Frodo, and he would forgive him.  
  
Frodo was very lonely. He missed Merry and Pippin more than words could express. If only they were here, they would help Sam see the error of his ways. Merry was always so sure of himself, confident, while Pippin was entertaining, a pleasure to be around. Frodo longed for their presence so much it felt as though a great weight was pressed on his chest every time he thought of them.  
  
He knew he was depressed, but didn't care.  
  
A few days after the wedding, Sam was sleeping again so Frodo decided to take a walk in the gardens, trying to rest his mind from the ever- present darkness lingering like a shadow there. The guilt of what he had done to Sam was not alleviated by his offer to become his servant. He had known all along it wouldn't, but had given it a try anyways.  
  
Frodo wandered aimlessly around until he found himself if the Court of the Fountain and the Tree. Sitting there was the King and his bride, the Queen Arwen, singing a song of Valinor. He would have gone if they hadn't risen to greet him.  
  
"Hello, Frodo!" said Aragorn warmly, clasping his arm in friendship. He looked Frodo steadily in the eye, seeming to see into the depths of his soul and said "I know what you have come to say, Frodo: you wish to return to your own home.*"  
  
Frodo sighed.  
  
"It is true that I wish to go back to the Shire,**" he finally admitted. "But I should very much like to see Bilbo again in Rivendell."  
  
Arwen placed her hand on Frodo's shoulder in comfort and said gently  
  
"You shall return home, Frodo, and my dearest wish is that you see Bilbo again, for he awaits you in Rivendell. He will not again make any long journey save one.***"  
  
Frodo nodded in understanding, and his mind drifted off while Aragorn spoke of the details of their departure. It was true that he missed Bilbo, more than he missed Merry and Pippin, but he wondered if Sam would allow him the pleasure of visiting Bilbo on their way home. Frodo knew Sam was anxious to see Rosie again, and his Gaffer. Would he permit a detour to visit an old, eccentric hobbit miles out of their way?  
  
His thoughts were jerked back to the present when Aragorn mentioned something about his companions being free forever of the realm of Gondor.  
  
"What did you say?" Frodo asked in surprise.  
  
"I said 'you are made free for ever of the realm of Gondor; and all your companions likewise.'**** Were you not listening?"  
  
"Do you really mean we are free?" Frodo asked. "Merry and Pippin and Sam too?"  
  
Now it was Aragorn's turn to be shocked.  
  
"Why yes, of course."  
  
Frodo nearly threw his hands in the air.  
  
"Then Merry and Pippin needn't have left?" he asked hopefully, and Aragorn looked at him strangely.  
  
"What do you mean, Frodo?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Have your companions left Gondor!"  
  
"Yes!" Frodo nearly shouted in exasperation. "Didn't you know? They left nigh on a week ago. They were exiled for breaking me from the dungeon!"  
  
"What?!" Aragorn cried in shock. Even Queen Arwen didn't seem to know what to say. "Who did this?"  
  
"The Council," answered Frodo simply.  
  
"The Council? They weren't to meet until I called them. Do you mean to tell me the Council met without my permission and exiled Merry and Pippin?"  
  
Frodo thought briefly and then pointed out  
  
"No, the Council met without your permission and exiled Merry, Pippin, and Sam."  
  
"Oh for the love of..arg!" cried Aragorn and stormed away, muttering under his breath. Frodo turned in surprise at the sound of clear laughter from the Queen's lips.  
  
"I wish I could be there to see what my husband does to the Council," she admitted, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of her graceful eyes. "Never mind him, Frodo. Now, I have something I want to give you."  
  
Frodo looked at her in anticipation, for the moment all troubles and hurts forgotten.  
  
"I shall not go with my father when he departs to the Havens; for mine is the choice of Lu`thien, and as she so have I chosen, both the sweet and the bitter. In my stead you shall go, Ringbearer, when the time comes, and if you then desire it. If your hurts greive you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West until all your wounds are healed. Wear this now in memory of Elfstone and Evenstar with whom your life has been woven!"  
  
She took a white gem like a star that lay upon her breast hanging upon a silver chain, and she set the chain about Frodo's neck.  
  
"When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you," she said, "this will bring you aid."*****  
  
Frodo fingered the white gem around his neck and tears nearly came to his eyes as he felt a gentle peace flow like water over his neck and face.  
  
"Thank you, my lady," he whispered, and she smiled.  
  
~*~  
  
When Frodo returned to Sam's room, the hobbit was pacing about angrily.  
  
"Where on earth have you been?" he snapped, and Frodo thrust the gem inside his shirt, hoping Sam hadn't noticed.  
  
"I need your help to pack."  
  
"Pack?" asked Frodo in surprise, shocked that Sam had heard of and was preparing for their departure so early. Sam rolled his eyes as though Frodo had asked a silly question and sighed.  
  
"Of course, pack. We're leavin' at dawn."  
  
Frodo could think of nothing intelligible to say, except  
  
"Why are we not leaving in three days? The King was to prepare a large departure for us!"  
  
"I know, stupid!" Sam retorted. "I don't want the attention, so we're leavin' early! Now get your lazy self over here and help me!"  
  
There was nothing for Frodo to do but comply.  
  
"By the way," he said hesitantly, "You're free, sir. The King just procl."  
  
Sam slapped him hard across his face, cutting off the rest of his sentence.  
  
"I KNOW, stupid! Can't you see? Now shut your mouth and get to work, or I'll give you no supper."  
  
All warm memories of the afternoon were washed away with the pain of the abuse, and Frodo wanted more than ever to leave. Perhaps leaving a few dayes earlier would be a good idea. Maybe he wouldn't have to endure Sam's brutal treatment for a few less days.  
  
He didn't know it then, but he couldn't have been more wrong.  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
* taken from The Return of the King, pg 272, pgh 2, property of JRR Tolkien  
  
** taken from The Return of the King, pg 272, pgh 3, property of JRR Tolkien  
  
*** taken from The Return of the King, pg 272, pgh 4, property of JRR Tolkien  
  
**** " pg 272, pgh 6, "  
  
***** " pg 273, pgh 2-3, " 


	15. The Justice of the King

Chapter 15 The Justice of the King Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: No I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
Iorhael: Thanks for reviewing. I'm not going into much detail in this chapter with Frodo and Sam. But I hope you like this anyways.  
  
Linriel: Not much hobbit angst in this chapter. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you keep posted!  
  
Arwen Baggins: I already emailed you, but if you didn't get it, let me know and I'll send it again. Thanks for the super long review! It helped a lot. By the way, yup, you're right about the medicine.  
  
Yellowrose: Thanks for reviewing! Not much hobbits in this chappie, that's next chapter. Hope you like this one!  
  
Bookworm2000: Yup, Sam was un-drugged for a brief minute, but he's stoned again. Poor Frodo. Thanks for reviewing. If you hate the Keeper, you'll like this chapter.  
  
Endymion2: Aragorn proves himself in this chapter to be a good king, at least in my opinion. Frodo finally got over his fits, nothing really cured him. Well, maybe the NDE did, kind of like a final blow and he's better. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Lily: Here it is, another update! It took me long enough.but I was having trouble figuring out the plot. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Bandosax15: Thanks for reviewing and for the compliment! It took me so long to update because I was trying to figure out the time structure of the upcoming plot. You have a sister? Me too. Um, I saw your name, and being the band freak that I am, I wondered if it refers to what you do in your 'spare' time. Point being, are you in band, and do you play saxophone?  
  
***Note: Some romance, I'm sure you won't mind. It's the hubby-wife kind, no slash. Also, sorry this is so short, but I will be updating soon.  
  
Last Time: Aragorn and Arwen were married and Sam plans to leave the next morning.  
  
***** Revised!!! *****  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
"Here we are, Pippin."  
  
Pippin opened his eyes groggily and beheld a weary Merry gazing up at him.  
  
"Just one more minute," he mumbled, and Merry sighed. Shaking him he said firmly  
  
"Come on now, Pip. We've arrived in Rivendell."  
  
Pippin's eyes flew open and he nearly fell off his horse, again, gasping in surprise. Merry was right. They had indeed arrived in the blessed valley of the elves. However, he didn't recognize a single fair elven face coming out to greet the weary travelers.  
  
"Where is everybody?" he asked his cousin, but Merry didn't seem to hear him. He was watching intently as Legolas conversed grimly with a dark- haired elf. Pippin got down from his horse, stiffly stretching his sore legs, and after a few tense moments, Legolas turned to his companions, his face pale.  
  
"Gandalf is not here," he said, and Pippin's mouth gapped open in horror. "They haven't seen him since he left on the Quest nearly five months ago."  
  
~*~  
  
Sam watched with lazy eyes as Frodo tightened the straps fastening their packs to Frodo's pony. It was a black, forlorn animal who didn't seem well enough to last the journey.  
  
Sam didn't bother to conceal a yawn as he glanced up at the pale morning sky. So far, they were on schedule. He hadn't planned to leave so soon, but after the man had come and warned him of the King's plans, he had felt a sudden sense of urgency to return to the Shire. The man had even provided the hobbits with mounts and a guide to take them along the Great West Road, stopping in Edoras to re-supply, then on across the wilderness to the Old South Road. From there, they would follow the ancient by way as it led north, straight into the heart of the Shire.  
  
Sam glanced at Frodo to see if he had finished yet, and was annoyed to see him still struggling with the buckle, his maimed hand crippling his abilities. Sam sighed audibly and stepped in, nearly shoving Frodo out of the way.  
  
"Oh, you're too slow," he complained, deftly fastening the packs in seconds. Frodo cast his eyes down and backed away, but Sam didn't seem to notice. "All set?" he asked their guide.  
  
"I'm ready," the Man said, mounting his bay-colored horse.  
  
"Very well," Sam said cheerfully, and mounted his gray pony, a sudden memory of Bill coming to him with the warm, horsey scent rising from the animal beneath him. He sighed, wondering where the poor soul was now.  
  
Frodo took up the pack ponies' lead rope and fell in behind his master. Sam had decided Frodo would not ride, instead leading the baggage-laden pony until, with the depletion of their food supply, there was enough room for him to ride amidst the remaining luggage. Sam didn't bother to concern himself with the comfort of his servant.  
  
The trio headed swiftly out of the city: once reaching the Great Road West breaking into a swift trot. At the top of a small hill, Frodo turned around for one last glance at the City of Kings. The rising sun was painting the many layers of the City in gold, causing innumerable glass windows to twinkle in farewell, reflecting the coming of the new day. The King's Banner rode high on the chill breeze, snapping out once in a crisp gust, revealing the Tree and crown of silver stars. Frodo's heart ached at the thought of leaving Aragorn and Arwen without so much as a goodbye, but it could not be helped. He clasped the white gem through the folds of his thin shirt and felt the familiar mist of peace settle over his troubled mind. With a sigh, he focused his sight on the bobbing form of his master riding erect a few yards in front of him, and thought with dread of the long road ahead.  
  
Thus the Ringbearer and his companion left the city of Minas Tirith, alone and unheralded, with no knowledge of their passing.  
  
~*~  
  
Gandalf threw open the doors of the King's chamber. They crashed into the walls on either side with a loud bang, causing the many occupants of the room to jump in surprise, one man in particular.  
  
"Gandalf!" exclaimed Aragorn, rushing from his seat to clasp the wizard's hand firmly. "Why, what happened?"  
  
"In a moment, my friend," Gandalf said, holding up his hand. "First, tell me where is Frodo?"  
  
Aragorn sighed, his brow creased with worry.  
  
"We can't find him anywhere," he confessed. "I went looking for him early this morning, and neither he nor Sam were anywhere to be found."  
  
The wizard's eyebrows sunk until they nearly covered his eyes, and the lines on this forehead seemed to furrow even deeper.  
  
"This is grevious indeed," he mused. "All must be done to locate him, before something terrible happens to him."  
  
"I'm afraid something terrible has already happened to him, my friend," said Aragorn sadly, shaking his head. "I met a woman this morning, a Healer from the Houses of Healing. Sit down and let me tell you what she told me."  
  
~  
  
"Sire!"  
  
Aragorn performed a sharp about face, a small hope rising in him that the speaker might be someone telling him the hobbits had been found. Instead, the person was a woman from the Houses of Healing. Now what could this mean?  
  
"Sire!" she panted slightly out of breath as she approached him.  
  
"What is it, my dear?" he asked, hoping it was nothing serious.  
  
She curtsied and quickly explained.  
  
"My name is Anareth, sire. A few days ago, I met two halflings in the Houses of Healing. Their names were Sam and Frodo, the Ringbearer. Sam was injured, and Frodo had brought him there in the middle of the night."  
  
Aragorn felt the color draining from his face as he strained forward to listen.  
  
"What happened to them?" he asked anxiously, and the Healer proceeded to relate to him the entire story, beginning with the night Frodo brought Sam to the Houses and ending with her encounter with Frodo the other day.  
  
"I have been trying to speak with you since, sire," she said, "but your administrators would not permit me to see you."  
  
"I'm terribly sorry," Aragorn apologized sincerely. "I have recently realized the sorry state of my 'councilors' and am currently replacing them with Men I know I can trust."  
  
Anareth nodded in understanding and thanked the King for allowing her to speak.  
  
"There's no need," he said gently. "If you hadn't told me, I would never have known. This is a very serious issue. Thank YOU."  
  
~  
  
Gandalf sighed deeply and stood up, leaning wearily on his staff. Aragorn watched him intently, but could contain his curiosity no longer.  
  
"Well, what happened to you?" he asked.  
  
"Hmm, what?" The wizard shook himself back to the present.  
  
"I asked you what was the delay?" Aragorn repeated, and Gandalf explained.  
  
"I had trouble finding my friend, and once I did locate him it took a long time to persuade him to come. Once I was finally on my way, Shadowfax became spunky and ran off. He only returned this morning."  
  
Aragorn nodded and urged his friend to take some rest, a request steadfastedly refused.  
  
"We must find what became of the hobbits first," he said. "Ask anyone who has seen them leave. Ask the guards, the Healers, anybody. I shall search myself, and take no rest until they are found."  
  
"Very well," said Aragorn. "Now, I think we should start with."  
  
He got no further for a courier came running up to him in great haste, appearing very flustered. He bowed upon his knee and rose, saying  
  
"My Lord, a Healer from the Houses of Healing begs immediate audience with you."  
  
"Send her in," Aragorn replied, his spirits rising a little. Perhaps the woman Anareth, if it was her, might know something of the hobbits. It was Anareth, and she appeared to be excited.  
  
"Sire," she said, curtsying. "I recently heard something that might be of interest to you. It concerns the halflings."  
  
"Yes?" asked Gandalf eagerly, and the Healer started at his sudden outburst, her eyes wide. Gandalf calmed down and apologized for startling her. "I'm sorry, my dear. Please continue."  
  
Anareth cleared her throat and said  
  
"I heard tell that a few days before the wedding, two hobbits, an elf, a dwarf, and two men were seen riding north, heading towards Rivendell."  
  
Aragorn sighed audibly.  
  
"That would be Merry and Pippin," he told Gandalf, and the wizard visibly sagged.  
  
"How unfortunate," he groaned. "We must have passed each other going our opposite ways. What a fool I am! But whatever sent them off to Rivendell?"  
  
Anareth shrugged.  
  
"I don't know anything else about them, sire, but I have something else I would like to tell you."  
  
"Very well, please proceed," encouraged Aragorn kindly. Anareth lowered her voice and began to speak softly.  
  
"The day I met Frodo again, sire, I knew he wasn't well. He was asking me if I knew where to find someone, but he left before I could ask him who it was. I couldn't bear to see him suffer as he was, so I followed him, hoping to help him. Well, I found him talking to the same man you punished, the old Keeper."  
  
Aragorn drew in his breath sharply and stared intently into her eyes.  
  
"Go on," he said, his every nerve focused on what this woman had to say.  
  
"The Keeper was disguised as a Healer, and I saw him give Frodo a small vial of something, I'm supposing it was 'medicine.' I heard him tell Frodo to give it to Sam, mixed in his tea. And that's all."  
  
The King sat down thoughtfully and rested his chin in his hand, thinking tediously.  
  
"Thank you, Anareth," he said gratefully. She curtsied and left the room. Aragorn waved everyone out except Gandalf, then rose and began pacing nervously.  
  
"I think I have it figured out," he said to the wizard. "The Keeper must have wanted to get revenge on the hobbits for losing his station, so he drugged them into hurting each other. Now, he's probably done something to them: what I don't know."  
  
Gandalf nodded solemnly.  
  
"Then you must bring this man to justice," he said gravely, "and persuade him to reveal what he has done with our friends."  
  
~*~  
  
The Keeper stalked into an inn, his cloak wrapped tightly around him, hood drawn up to conceal his familiar face. Tonight he would celebrate a glorious victory.  
  
He sat down at a table in the furthest corner of the room and waved for an ale, waiting in silent expectation until it arrived. He took a deep swallow and settled back into his chair with a contented sigh. Finally, the halflings were gone! His troubles were over, for now. Of course he would be found out, but he wanted to engage in one last well-earned pleasure before his escape North.  
  
He raised his ale to the fire and said to himself  
  
"Here's to the 'letters from Gandalf,'" taking a long swing. He wiped his mouth and chuckled to himself. What fools, to actually believe those ridiculous letters! For them to travel all the way to Rivendell..the Man nearly exploded in laughter, but took a deep breath instead. He would have pleanty of time for mirth later. He raised his tankard again.  
  
"To the poison, stolen from my dear old master."  
  
He finished off his first ale and called for a second. As the maid took it away, he couldn't help but smile as he thought of the Baggins fellow waiting on his former servant. That had been a stroke of genius on his part. Flesh wounds heal in time, but a broken heart is often shattered beyond repair. Of course he knew of the Ringbearer's love for his companion, everyone who cared to pay attention did. The Keeper knew their relationship might be pulverized forever: that had been his sole purpose.  
  
"To a long-lasting friendship," he toasted, and smirked evilly in the black chamber of his hood.  
  
~  
  
Unbeknownst to him, a pair of steel-gray eyes was watching his every move, hearkening and digesting every word, locking it deep into his memory.  
  
He watched as the Keeper slowly drank himself into oblivion, falling at last to the table before him with a loud thud and clank as his tankard rolled to the stone floor. The man quickly rose and tied the man's hands behind his back, nodding to the innkeeper as he left. The man behind the counter returned the signal. He knew what to do. If the Keeper so much as moved a muscle in protest, the innkeeper would be sending him back into the dark world of dreams.  
  
The Ranger left the inn quickly, making a beeline for the palace. King Elessar was waiting.  
  
~*~  
  
The courtroom was packed full with many excited bodies eagerly awaiting the Keeper's trial. Word had leaked out that the man responsible for inflicting harm and banishment upon the saviors of Middle Earth was being tried today, and everyone who was able to was in attendance. A much larger crowd pressed outside the doors, tensely debating the fate of the prisoner.  
  
How would the new King punish him? Mere banishment wasn't good enough for him, since this was his second offense. But then again, how would the King prove he was guilty? He had sent out a call for witnesses a few days before, but no one knew if his summons had been answered.  
  
The hours dragged on by, and finally when the sun was casting long shadows, the doors of the courtroom flew open and a courier emerged from within. The crowd jumped to their feet, listening eagerly.  
  
"The verdict is decided!" The courier's voice resounded above their heads and they strained forward to hear his next words.  
  
~*~  
  
King Elessar sat stiffly in his throne, surveying the miserable man in front of him, the man responsible for the suffering of his dear friends. Undoubtedly, the man deserved death, and was expecting it. It was evident in the hopeless, frantic glaze to his red-rimmed eyes and in the nervous shaking of his hands. Yet his face still retained the same bleak hatred which had been there before when he had appeared before him for less serious crimes. Now, it was time.  
  
The King rose from his seat and said strongly  
  
"Upon strenuous examination, the court finds you guilty of the crimes of forgery of the King's hand, banishment, poisoning, and the torturing of innocents as seen and heard by the witnesses," he motioned towards the trio of witnesses standing silently off to the side. Among them was Anareth, failing to conceal an expression of satisfaction.  
  
"In all accordances, you deserve death four times over. But, the King is merciful. Therefore, the council sentences you to five years in prison and banishment forever from the realm of Gondor, as you did likewise to your victims. The verdict is final."  
  
An official of the court banged his staff upon the floor decisively, signaling the completion of the trial, and the room erupted into cheers as the prisoner was dragged from the courtroom stumbling. His victory was defeated.  
  
~*~  
  
Aragorn walked heavily to his bedroom window and leaned wearily against the frame. The last two days had been extremely tiring both mentally and physically. He had fretted so much over not finding enough witnesses! But at the last moment, the third had arrived with a tale of hearing screams coming from the dungeons on the night Frodo had beat Sam, and Aragorn's fears were stilled.  
  
A gentle touch on his shoulder, and he felt the strain melt gently away.  
  
"You did a wonderful job," Arwen said softly in his ear, massaging away the tension in his shoulders.  
  
"Thank you, my dear," he breathed. "I couldn't find it in my heart to order the death of a man." He chuckled. "I suppose that sounds odd, considering my violent background." His eyes became distant as his thoughts roamed over his past. "Killing someone in battle is different. There, one is expected to kill and be killed in return, but sitting back and watching someone die at your own hands...it's not the same."  
  
"I understand," Arwen said gently. "You will make a wise King, Elfstone."  
  
Aragorn took her white hands gently in his own calloused ones and brought them to his lips, laying a kiss soft as a puff of air on her immortal skin.  
  
"Meleth ni`n," he whispered. "My love."  
  
The two stood outside on the balcony and watched as the stars came out and sprinkled the ebony heavens with their scintillating maille, and the moon rose, a round, milky saucer, arching faithfully across the sky, unwavering in its watchful silence.  
  
~ To be continued! ~  
  
Note: Warning, next chapter you might want to have access to a map. We have people going all over Middle Earth, criss-crossing lines and stuff. What parts of the map? Everything. 


	16. The Road West

Chapter 16 The Road West Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, or any character EXCEPT the Keeper, Anareth, and the tour guide!!! YEAAA!!!  
  
Hamster: YES! Finally I remembered to answer your review! Sorry I didn't on the last chapter, it's cause it didn't pop up as botfanfictionreveiw on my email. Oh well, thanks for reviewing! Glad you like the story, and I hope you like how it turns out!! Keep posted!  
  
Yellowrose: Thanks for reviewing again! I like exclamation points too. Death to the Keeper, you say? Well, who says I haven't finished with him? By the way, love your stories. Added you to my favorites.  
  
Bookworm2000: Oooo, all the hobbits, back in Gondor? After their *bad* experiences there? And they've been gone for nearly a year, now. I would want to go back home, if I were them.  
  
Linriel: I HAD to post the next chapter on Frodo's birthday. People say 'Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.' All I have to say to that is..WRONG!! Wounds can heal, but wounds on a heart? We'll see..  
  
Endymion2: Thanks for reviewing! Aragorn will be a good King, but he's just getting started. So he does need some reassurance and encouragement. Do you have the LotR series (books)? Those have maps..especially the older versions.  
  
Shire Baggins: Questions questions, and more chapters to answer those questions. I'm not finished.oh no. But I might be writing shorter chapters soon, because I'm warning you, confusion ahead!! Got maps?  
  
Coolio02: I wish I could update more frequently. Arg. OH well, sorry. Thanks for reviewing, hope you like angst, cause its saturated into this chapter!! : )  
  
AranelMaethlang: Yes, I hope to really emphasize the deep, deep friendship through this story. And the power and effectiveness of forgiveness. That forgiveness IS possible, and it DOES work, even after a lot of trial and hurt. I only wish more people could understand that...then there would be less divorces and well, you get the point.  
  
Arwen Baggins: Remember Legolas, Gimli, Faramir, and Beregond? Well, they were all on horses and took Merry and Pippin with them so they could get there faster. (Merry rode behind Faramir and Pippin rode behind Beregond) Unfortunately, I won't go back to that group until chapter 17. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Iorhael: Happy Birthday Frodo and Bilbo!!! Yup, I'm posting today because of them. I made a special effort. Glad you have the maps! Won't need em this chapter, but you will soon!  
  
Lily: Yes, I made quite a few mistakes with Shadowfax, that my friend pointed out. He wears no bridle, and he is not really spunky. Should have used the trusty thesaurus on that one.oh well. Sorry. Cheese Its!  
  
**~~** HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRODO AND BILBO!!!! : ) **~~**  
  
*** If you still haven't re-read chapter 15, I REVISED it! So please read before continuing!!!  
  
****Also, please don't consider a part of this chapter to be slash. It's brotherly love. Frodo and Sam are NOT *ahem*..grrrrrrr. (people these days...)  
  
Last Time: Aragorn finally punished the Keeper, so he won't cause any more trouble. Now, back to our dear, suffering, confused hobbits.  
  
****I'm going to go through Frodo and Sam's journey north first, then return to the others. I hope it'll be less confusing that way. If it's more (confusing), I'm sorry! *tear*  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Frodo stumbled along, staring numbly at the rocks and dirt below him. He shook his head to clear away the floating sensation of lightheadedness, and stubbed his toe on a protruding stone, causing him to jerk the pony's reigns as he tripped. He grit his teeth at the throbbing pain and limped forward, trying in vain to focus on anything else.  
  
Sam. Tears came to Frodo's eyes at the sight of his merciless, proud master sitting erect up ahead. He didn't know how much longer he could stand the harsh words, the beatings, the de-hobbitizing remarks from Sam. He knew something was wrong with him, something unnatural. Sam, his Sam, couldn't stay angry for this long. It simply wasn't his nature.  
  
Frodo remembered when they had had an argument over Frodo's bachelor state a few weeks after Bilbo's party. Sam had been trying to convince his master to mingle with the ladies a little more, and Frodo had become frustrated at having to explain again why he wasn't attracted by such things. He had nearly insulted Sam's fondness for Rosie, and Sam had all but stormed out of Bag End as a result. But they had apologized and made up the next day, and the matter was forgotten.  
  
Frodo coughed weekly. It had been five days since they set out from Minas Tirith, and he was lagging farther and farther behind with each passing day. More than once their guide had turned to see how he was faring, concern written upon his face. He was a kind man, but knew better than to instruct a master in the care of his own servant. But Frodo was still doomed to walk, to sleep shivering on the bare ground with nothing to cover him but his cloak, and to eat only whatever scanty meal he was given. It was only enough to keep him on his feet and endure the miserable existence brought upon him by his own choice.  
  
Yet every time a doubt rose in his mind at the cruel manner in which he was being treated, the horrifying image of Sam's torn and bleeding back pulsated to the surface and he shuddered with awful remembrance and guilt. He knew he deserved every brutal word and blow for the betrayal of his dearest friend.  
  
A harsh, oddly chilling breeze gusted against him, and he swayed against its unrelenting force. Gasping, Frodo's head spun ferociously and a fire burned in his stomach, racing up his backbone to his head where it exploded into a great ball of scorching flame. The edges of his vision faded and with a small cry, darkness stole him from the waking world.  
  
~  
  
The guide's ears pricked up at a faint cry from behind him and he quickly turned to investigate. He gasped, and checking his horse, retraced their path to the lone figure of a pony standing obediently beside the small, prostrate form.  
  
The guide dismounted and gently turned the insensible hobbit over, frowning.  
  
'Now look at what you've done,' he muttered to himself, speaking of master Samwise. 'I knew it would come someday.'  
  
He undid the clasp of the hobbit's cloak whose face was ashen, breath coming in small gasps. The man reached for his water skin, pouring some onto Frodo's pale forehead. The shock of the cold water dribbling into his hair started him awake, and he coughed weakly.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" asked Sam disconcertedly, not bothering to dismount.  
  
"Besides being over-exerted and under fed?" The man asked sarcastically. Sam sighed.  
  
"I suppose this means we'll have to stop for a while," he said, irritated. "We were makin' excellent time. Nearly half way there, and he has to get himself sick. I should have left him in Minas Tirith."  
  
The guide glared at Sam.  
  
"If you would treat him as you would a person, we would be more than halfway there by now," he nearly spat. "If you would feed him well, and let him ride.."  
  
"I know how to handle my property, sir!" seethed Sam, furious at being spoken to in that manner. "He only receives what he earns."  
  
"Well, perhaps he would be able to earn more if you treated him fairer," the man suggested, struggling to keep his temper even.  
  
"Please.."came Frodo's faint voice from the ground, and the man quickly helped him sit up, handing him the water skin. The hobbit drank eagerly, but had only wet his parched lips before Sam snatched it away.  
  
"That's enough," he said, shoving the skin back into the man's hands. "Perhaps if you're good you'll get more later. Now come! On your feet. We've wasted enough time already."  
  
"No, master." Frodo gasped as he failed to stand, and Sam turned on him angrily.  
  
"Did you tell me 'no?'" he nearly screeched, and boxed his servant's ear, sending him sprawling across the packed road.  
  
"No, sir," Frodo whispered, voice hoarse with thirst. The guide's heart wrenched at the sight, and he stepped over, picking up the thin frame of the hobbit. He wasn't surprised at finding him unnaturally light.  
  
"What are you doin'?" Sam demanded as he followed the man to his horse.  
  
"I'm taking care of him," the guide replied curtly, "as you seem unable to do so yourself."  
  
Sam leapt after him and snatched a handful of Frodo's curls, the only part of him he was able to reach. Frodo's neck snapped back and he cried out.  
  
"Set..him..down!" Sam shouted, not releasing his painful hold on his servant.  
  
"Let go of him!" the guide retorted, arms unfortunately too occupied with his burden to release Frodo from his master's grip. He was forced to bend his knees some, and Sam's hand flashed from Frodo's hair to his neck, fingers locking in deadly constraint.  
  
The guide shifted his burden to one arm and attempted to pry Sam's fingers away from their grasp on Frodo's neck, but Sam was determined, and hung on steadfastedly.  
  
"He's MINE!" Sam yelled, drawing Sting with his other hand and pointing in the guide's face. "Give him to me, or I'll strangle him to death!"  
  
Frodo's face was turning a deathly shade of blue, as his weakened fingers clawed desperetly at the choking hold on his neck. There was nothing the guide could do but reluctantly set him down and back away.  
  
"Get out of here!" Sam hissed venomously, still brandishing Sting while Frodo lay gasping for air on the ground.  
  
"I will NOT leave him like this!" the guide roared, motioning towards Frodo. "He's going to die if you continue to treat him in this way!"  
  
"Good then!" shouted Sam. "One less mouth for me to worry about."  
  
"I was instructed to see you to the Old South Road," the guide said in a low voice, struggling to detain his emotions. " And I shall, even if I have to carry him the entire way."  
  
"Very well," said Sam calmly. "You may. If you want to take care of him, so be it. But don't expect me to show you any favors."  
  
"I wasn't asking for any," the man replied curtly, taking Frodo once more in his arms. He noticed the bluish finger marks forming on his neck where Sam had nearly strangled him, and he fought to urge to do the same to Sam.  
  
"Please." Frodo gasped hoarsely, and the man glared at Sam, who was now re- mounting his pony, looking slightly flustered.  
  
"I'm ridin' on ahead," Sam said flatly. "You can catch up when you're done babyin' him." And he rode off down the road, a slight drizzle beginning to blur his small form.  
  
~  
  
Frodo felt himself set gently down underneath the protecting overhang of a small grove of trees standing not far from the road. He tried to thank the man, but couldn't get his voice to work.  
  
"Shh," the man soothed. "I'll be back with my horse and the pony. You just lie here for a while until I get back."  
  
Frodo nodded and shut his eyes, shivering. He wrapped his cloak around him tighter and curled up into a ball, imagining he was far, far away from that place. A wave of dizziness carried him into a raging sea of nightmarish dreams, where he fancied he was sailing, sailing on a grey ship into a mystical place where pain was no more.  
  
When he woke, he ached all over and there was a great rushing in his ears. He moaned, and the sound made him flinch in pain. He didn't understand how he could be burning white hot while he felt so icy cold. Suddenly he felt a hand settle on the back of his neck, and he jerked away imagining it was trying to strangle him.  
  
"Shh, little one," said a kind voice. "I'm not trying to hurt you."  
  
Frodo opened his eyes a slit and peered out of his hazy world at the speaker through glazed eyes.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked hoarsely.  
  
"I want to help you," the man said gently. Frodo felt a cup being held to his lips.  
  
"Drink this," the voice said. "It'll help your fever."  
  
Frodo obediently consumed the steaming, bitter beverage, and once he had finished, welcome unconsciousness beckoned him temptingly in. Having not the strength to refuse, he accepted the bewitching invitation gratefully.  
  
~  
  
Sam came to himself nearly a mile into his lonesome journey. Where was he? Where was Mr. Frodo? It was raining hard now. Not a cold, winter rain, but a refreshing, warm rain murmuring sweetly of springtime. He pulled his hood up over his face and turned his mount around, somehow knowing the answer to his questions led back the way he had come.  
  
He kept his pony at a fast trot until his sharp eyes spotted a tiny speck of light in a grove of trees off the road a ways. It was beginning to pour, and he figured whoever was near the fire might be kind to a poor hobbit caught in the rain. He was beginning to worry. Where was Frodo? What had become of his master? Why had he been out on the road in the first place?  
  
Ah! That was it! He was heading home. Frodo had been with him. But he had taken ill. A fear rose in Sam's heart, and he hastened to the grove as fast as the mud would allow.  
  
~  
  
The guide straightened wearily, pulling himself up from his stiff kneeling position and sighed. The poor halfling's fever had worsened, and he didn't have the right herbs to fight the raging monster inside the small body. But he knew where to find them.  
  
He made sure the halfling was warm and dry underneath the small lean-to he had hastily constructed, and rode out into the drenching rain, thunder cracking admonishingly overhead.  
  
The guide knew better than to be out in a storm as dangerous as this, but the halfling's life was in danger. He mulled frustratedly over the fact that he didn't even know the halfling's name. Sam had never called him by anything except "You."  
  
The man rode on until he came to a small stream he had spotted earlier winding alongside the road for a little while. He remembered seeing a dense thicket on the other side, and knew it was a perfect haven for the rare herb. He let his horse pick his way cautiously across the stream, and he dismounted on the other side, searching through the underbrush for the object of his search.  
  
A small smile came to his eyes as he spotted the tell-tale star-shaped leaves peeking from the roots of a large, prickly bush. He pulled his knife and quickly cut as much as he needed, stuffing it into a leather pouch.  
  
Satisfied, he rode back across the stream, lifting his long sword clear of the rising water. He glanced warily up at the dark clouds and a blinding flash streaked across the sky, leaving him momentarily blinded. But he shook his head and continued on anxiously. The sooner he got back to camp the better.  
  
He climbed a small hill on his way back, meaning to take a shorter route, and the entire gray, rain-smeared country was laid before him in a muddy frame. He urged his horse onward, a great fear and dread overtaking him abruptly.  
  
Suddenly there was a tremendous flash, an ear-splitting crack, and he knew no more.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam finally reached the grove of trees and found a small fire burning dimly. A crude shelter had been constructed directly beside it, underneath which there was a dark-haired figure encompassed in a layer of blankets.  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried, and leapt from his pony, rushing to his master's side. Frodo cried out when Sam took his hand, and Sam dropped it, startled to find it so hot.  
  
Frodo's face was flushed crimson, and his eyes rolled under closed lids, betraying the feverish nightmares occurring in his hallucinative world.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam gasped, "Your Sam's here. He's goin' to take care of you now, hold on."  
  
Sam fetched more blankets and other supplies from the pack pony standing dejectedly nearby, and returned with them to the shelter. He built up the fire again and set some water on to heat. He wipped the sweat from Frodo's brow and spoke softly to him, murmuring meaningless, irrelevant phrases. The sound of his own voice comforted him in the steady dripping of the downpour.  
  
A tremendous crack of thunder caused Sam to jump, and Frodo cried out in his delerium.  
  
"Sam! Sam, help me!" he gasped, his eyes fluttering open, unseeing. "They've come for me, Sam! Please!"  
  
Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo's burning form and held him until he wearied himself out and lay limp as a child's doll in his arms. It was then Sam noticed he was crying.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," he sobbed, tears splashing down onto his master's hot face. To his joy, Frodo's eyes focused on him, and realization swept his face.  
  
"Sam?" he said weekly, and Sam grasped his hand.  
  
"Aye, it's me, Mr. Frodo!" he said, smiling and wiping his tears away. He realized with embarrassment how awkward Frodo must feel, being held as though he was a small child, and began to set him down.  
  
"No, Sam," Frodo said faintly. "Please, don't let go. I need you, Samwise."  
  
"I know, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, gathering his burning body up again. "I'm here, don't you worry. All's goin' to be fine."  
  
He held him until the fire was extinguished and the rain turned into a soft drizzle, dissolving the sobbing trees, muddled earth, and weeping sky into a melancholy portrait of renewed everlasting.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo woke to a delicious aroma floating through the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, as it always was after a good rain, and it felt wonderfully soothing to breathe in the pure coolness of it. He felt tired and weak, as though he had just run a long race, but the terrible floating dizziness was gone. He sat up, peeling off the layers of blankets and saw Sam crouched near a cooking fire, frying sausages and tomatoes while humming softly to himself.  
  
Alarm spoiled the serene feeling he had awoken with, and he stumbled out of his blankets. Oh, he would catch it for sleeping in when he should have been preparing breakfast for Sam. He steeled himself for a harsh greeting.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized as he reached to take the pan from his master. Sam looked at him, surprised.  
  
"Well, good mornin', Mr. Frodo," he said warmly. "I take it you're feelin' better, sir."  
  
Frodo was too shocked by his change in demeanor to answer anything but a stuttered  
  
"Th.Thank you, sir."  
  
Sam took the frying pan from the fire and began dividing up its sizzling contents on two plates already containing bread, cheese, and an apple.  
  
'Two!' Frodo thought, daring to hope a little. He was ravishingly hungry.  
  
"Here you are, Mr. Frodo!" said Sam cheerily, handing him one of the plates. Frodo took it and stared at it numbly. Was this a trick? Was Sam trying to humiliate him as he had done in Minas Tirith?  
  
"Well, it ain't goin' to do no good just starin' at it, sir, if you don't mind me sayin' so," laughed Sam, crunching down on the apple.  
  
'I might as well eat as much as I can before he changes his mind,' Frodo thought to himself, and sat down on the opposite side of the fire, balancing his plate on his knees. He was so hungry!  
  
He watched Sam's face carefully for any hint of anger, but in traditional hobbit-style, Sam was engrossed in his food. Finally, Frodo couldn't stand it any longer, and he began shoving the food in his mouth as fast as he could. He was halfway through before he began to feel sick, and it was obvious why. He set his plate down and rushed into the undergrowth, where he regurgitated the too-hastily consumed meal.  
  
He retched until his stomach was empty and his throat burned from the acids, sweat dripping down his forehead. He wiped his mouth the cuff of his sleeve and groaned as he straightened.  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" exclaimed Sam, who had appeared mysteriously at his side. "You are still ill! You shouldn't have eaten so fast!"  
  
Frodo kicked dirt over his mess and nodded shamedly.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, moping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Sam looked puzzled.  
  
"Why are you calling me sir?" he asked as he helped Frodo back to their camp. Now it was Frodo's turn to be surprised.  
  
"Don't you remember, sir?" he asked.  
  
"Remember what?"  
  
Frodo felt himself pale at the possibility of having to mention the incident again. He would take this one step at a time.  
  
"In Minas Tirith, sir. Don't you remember?"  
  
He saw how Sam's forehead scrunched up trying to recall the past few weeks.  
  
"No, I'm sorry, I can't," he finally said. Frodo sighed.  
  
"You don't remember what..I did?" he asked hesitantly. Sam shook his head.  
  
Frodo suddenly found himself reluctant to mention anything. He felt guilty for what he had done to Sam, ashamed of what he had become, and humiliated that Sam was pretending not to know. Now could he forget all those endless days and nights? He must be playing some mean trick, to force Frodo to admit who he was again, to degrade him. Well, this time it wouldn't work. He changed the subject.  
  
"We should get moving, sir," he suggested, and Sam nodded slowly, unsatisfied.  
  
Together they packed up the blankets and gear, put out the fire, and left the little grove behind, forgetting entirely about their missing guide.  
  
~*~  
  
All was still on the lonely hilltop, save the rustling of the wind in the long grass. Two figures lay unmoving, still as death itself. A horse and a man, inanimate beneath the cerulean blue sky as the blanched clouds sailed on and glanced down from their conceited loftiness, shaking their translucent heads in pity.  
  
~ To be continued! ~ 


	17. Ways and Means

Chapter 17 Ways and Means Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: Me no own Lord of the Rings.  
  
**TO ALL ME WONDERFUL REVEIWERS*** Thank you soooo much for your patience! I hope you haven't deserted me.although I wouldn't blame you. Been sick and busy.I'll keep you posted on scores from my band competitions.  
  
Arwen Baggins: Yes, Sam is all done being mean to Frodo. *sighs in relief and wipes sweat off brow*  
  
Yellowrose: Yes, it's nice to write Sam back as his old self. I sure hope Frodo got rid of that stuff, we'll see....  
  
Bookworm2000: A lot of stuff has happened since Sam was drugged, and since I posted the last chapter. Oh, the man was struck by lightning. I'm not exactly sure what that does to people, so forgive me if I'm wrong. But I couldn't KILL him.....  
  
Endymion2: Sorry. Plot twist, had to get the guide out of the way. But his part ain't done yet, no siree. Hope you like this chapter, and glad you don't need a map!  
  
Linriel: *author cowers under the bed* Please don't kill me! *whimpers* I hate waiting too. Thank you for doing so, though.  
  
Lily: Ooooo cheese.slurp. Yummy. I'm glad you thought that was the best chapter yet. I like it too. They say if an author likes to read what he/she's written, it's good. Well, I'm certainly trying.  
  
Dancinghobbit: YEA! I new person! Say hi to your sister. My little sister sneaks on the computer and reads all my chapters before I post them, grrrr. Oh well, siblings. I had a box of Milk Duds the other day..my brother ate them.  
  
Bandosax15: *blush* I realized Shadowfax was acting out of character after I posted the chapter. Elfitchick pointed out to me that he dosen't wear a bridle..oops. Keep me posted on how your band does!! Are you a street and field band? We're kicking major a** right now.undefeated! Hurray! We have a DEADLY field show. Rifles mixed in with the band going at 156 b/m tossing threes and stuff..i got hit by a flag once so far..but the judges like it. Tell me about your band! I must know! Go Mustangs! Go Tartans! Band band band.ok.  
  
Elfitchick: Hi. Glad you like the scene where they come back. I like it too. *sniff*  
  
Iorhael: Glad you like my story. Hope you like this chapter, and the ones to come.  
  
AranelMaethlang: Pass my writing skills? I don't know..but read and write and practice writing! That's all I can say..read a lot. It builds your vocabulary, and get a thesaurus.  
  
Yahiko: Sorry it took me so long to update! Hope you like this next chapter.  
  
Eileen: You love me? *blush* Hmmm, hope you like this chapter. By the way, is Eileen your real name? Just wondering, cause that's my little sister's middle name.  
  
Senni: No, I haven't forgotten this story exists. If I did, I would be mobbed! Thanks for all your patience!  
  
Shire Baggins: Yes, I go to my school FOR band. Do your children play any instrument? I'm just curious.anything with band interests me. I play flute, piano, and tenor saxophone. Sure hope they have an opportunity to be in a good band. It makes a big difference.  
  
Qtpie-pippinsgurl: Hello! A new reviewer! Wonderful! Glad you like this story..I always am. Keep reviewing!  
  
Kate Wood: Sometimes I print out stories too, except when I don't have enough ink. Glad you like me story, and I hope to see more reviews from you in the future! Don't hesitate, I love reviews..mmm, yummy.  
  
Sydeny324Took: I'm planning on writing the rest of the story, but if I get too lazy I'll let you know. J/K, glad to see you! Please keep posted!  
  
MBradford: Yea, there you are! Thanks for taking time to review! I really appreciate your comments. If there's anything I need to clarify, please let me know! I love input!  
  
Heartofahobbit: Thanks for your 'review', and the encouragement. I love Gift of the Valar, and I'm glad you like my stories too! If you have any tips, please, let me know!  
  
(*pay no attention to the incoherent babbling of the author with three week writer's block* Must. . . torture Frodo. . . must . . . torture Frodo. . . .must . . . .torture . . . .Frodo...Daaahh wrong story for it! *hits self on head* oh well, guess I'll write another torture Frodo story ooooooo *light bulb dings on* got idea! Mwahahahahahahahaha)  
  
**VERY IMPORTANT***  
  
***NOTE!!*** I am changing Return of the King! Saruman was killed at Orthnac in the encounter with Gandalf. He never recked havoc on the Shire. So there is no Battle of Bywater, and when the hobbits return, everything is as it was when they left.  
  
Last Time: Sam came back to himself and the guide (and his horse) were hit by lightning.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
~*~Rivendell 3 days before Sam 'woke up'~*~  
  
"Well, my young hobbits, I wish you a safe return."  
  
"Thank you, Bilbo," said Merry, mounting his pony in the chilly moring air outside the silent house of Elrond. "I truly wish Frodo could have been here to see you. Perhaps he shall come along later."  
  
Bilbo sighed, his aging shoulders slumping forward.  
  
"So do I, Merry. Are you sure you wish to return to the Shire now? Perhaps you could stay a while and wait for his return."  
  
Merry sighed, remembering the conversation they had had earlier.  
  
"I am certain. Pippin and I have been away from home too long."  
  
"As have we, young ones," came the musical voice of Legolas behind him, Gimli on his heels. "But I have heard so much of the Shire, I desire greatly to see it." He nodded towards the dwarf to continue.  
  
"We wish to accompany you on your way home," said Gimli, his eyes twinkling.  
  
"You do?" asked Pippin in surprise, his mouth nearly hanging open.  
  
"Yes. Two young hobbits need protection on such a long journey, even if they are fearsome knights."  
  
The small gathering broke out in laughter.  
  
"Very well," said Merry, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. "If you want to see the Shire, I would gladly welcome your company! Besides, Pippin and I can show you all the sights."  
  
"They're nothing compared to what we've seen." said Pippin under his breath.  
  
"Now, Merry," said Bilbo sternly. "Do you have the Book?"  
  
Merry patted a secure leather bundle on his pony and nodded.  
  
"I shall give it to Frodo when he returns," he promised solemnly, and Bilbo nodded his approval.  
  
"Off you go then," he said, patting the pony's flank. "Do stay out of trouble, and say hello for me to your relatives!"  
  
"I will!" called Merry over his shoulder as the four started on their way.  
  
"Oh! But don't tell that to the Sackville-Bagginses!" came Bilbo's voice. "Tell them one more year and I shall beat the Old Took! They'll love that bit of news!"  
  
Merry chuckled.  
  
"I'm sure they will, Bilbo," he said fondly, and spurred his pony on ahead.  
  
~*~  
  
Gandalf watched the two figures wheeling slowly in the air above him, growing ever smaller against the sapphire blue sky.  
  
"Godspeed, Gawihir and Landroval," he said softly to them. "May you meet with success, and two hobbits, on your mission."  
  
As he turned away, he chuckled softly to himself.  
  
"Perhaps Frodo and Sam will finally experience the wonders of flying atop an eagle this time, instead of being clutched unconscious in their talons."  
  
~*~  
  
~Present Time (morning we left off at)~  
  
The man groaned and slowly opened his stiff eyelids. Agonizing pain and numbing weakness coursed through his entire body, making the slightest movement torture. But he must get up! He had to. Something was wrong. He had been trying to do something, but what had it been? His head ached too much to think.  
  
Summoning all his courage, the man raised himself to his knees. There was his horse, standing a few paces off, staring numbly at him. He too appeared to be in pain. Laying in the burnt grass a few feet from him was his sword, or what was left of it. The blade was twisted and bent, the grip melted and still smoking.  
  
He slowly breathed in the crisp morning air, fresh form last night's storm. Surprisingly, his mind cleared and he struggled to his feet. He leaned wearily on his horse and shadded his eyes to survey the landscape. All was still, the Road winding dark and muddy along the forested foothills. But wait! Something was moving along the road. It appeared to be a group of horsemen.  
  
The guide didn't know whether they were friendly or not, but he knew he must take his chances and show himself to them. Perhaps they would help.  
  
~*~  
  
Aragorn's stern gray eyes scanned the landscape, scrutinizing every aspect and detail. He was leading the search party headed along the West Road, hoping to find some trace of the two missing Ringbearers. Gandalf had rode North, and another search party had been sent to scour the North- eastern plains of Gondor.  
  
A scout approached the King and saluted.  
  
"My Lord," he began, "I have found something. There is a man who wishes to speak to you. He is injured, otherwise he would have come to you."  
  
"Very well," said the King. "Lead the way."  
  
As he and his party followed the scout, the lines of worry ceasing Aragorn's brow melted slightly. After three days of searching, any hint was a welcome relief. He only hoped the news would be good.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo and Sam were ambling along at a steady pace when suddenly two winged figures dropped out of the sky and landed with a great whoosh on the road in front of them. Their ponies reared at the two monstrous birds, nearly throwing their riders. Sam spoke softly to his pony, and it quieted, still eyeing the eagles suspiciously. Frodo was having a more difficult time until Sam stepped in and held it's bridle, calming it with soothing words and gentle pats.  
  
"Greetings to you," said the largest eagle, a stately bird whose feathers were still sleek after many years. "We have been sent by the wizard you know as Gandalf who bids you return to the Shire by different means."  
  
Sam turned to Frodo, hoping he would answer the enourmous birds.  
  
"Your help is greatly appreciated," Frodo said finally. "I am Frodo Baggins, and this is Samwise Gamgee, although I presume you have encountered us already. I thank you for saving our lives. We are in your debt."  
  
"As we are in yours, brave hobbits," the eagle said sternly. "We have come to carry you home to the Shire."  
  
Sam paled at this, but Frodo bowed low to the ground.  
  
"Your offer is much appreciated," he said gratefully, and began to remove the more important pieces of luggage.  
  
"What are ye doin'?" gasped Sam, and Frodo jumped back in surprise. "Are you really goin' to ride on them? Up in the air, miles off the ground? Have you lost your mind, sir?"  
  
"No, I haven't," Frodo said softly. "Gandalf sent them, and they seem willing to carry us. Unless, you would rather walk all the way back to the Shire, sir."  
  
"That's exactly my point!" exclaimed Sam. "You haven't told me yet why you keep callin' me 'sir,' you didn't explain why we were wearin' each other's clothes, you'd rather fly than walk like any sensible hobbit...if you don't mind my sayin' so sir, but somethin's wrong!"  
  
Frodo sighed deeply and hoisted two small bags up on his shoulder.  
  
"You still don't remember?" he asked softly, and Sam shook his head.  
  
"Pardon me, young ones," said the eagle, "but we must be off."  
  
"I'll tell you later," Frodo said and approached the eagle, who bent low enough to the ground for Frodo to climb onto his back and settle in amongst the warm feathers on his neck. He smiled as he watched Sam nervously climb atop the other eagle, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.  
  
The giant birds spread their gossamer wings and mightily leapt into the sky. Frodo clung tightly to the brown feathers as he watched the ground fall farther and farther beneath them, the road becoming a pale ribbon, then a thread lacing at the foot of the lofty mountains.  
  
The eagles circled higher and higher, gaining altitude, and Frodo was glad for the warm cloak about his shoulders.  
  
All of Rohan spread before them, and they could see many silver rivers winding across the green landscape. The purple mountains behind them formed a solid, but not impenetrable barrier at their backs as the eagles pointed their beaks northward.  
  
"We should reach the Shire in two days," Gawihir said to Frodo, who nodded and turned to look at Sam.  
  
Sam was cowered down amongst the feathers on Landloval's neck, not daring to peek out at the wonderful scenery beneath him. He had never liked heights.  
  
"Sam!" Frodo called. "Open your eyes! Look!"  
  
Sam slowly turned his head and cast a brief glimpse at the ground beneath him before shuddering and burrowing down again. Frodo shook his head in pity and turned back to the beauty around him.  
  
~*~  
  
"My Lord! Look!"  
  
Aragorn's eyes scanned the sky above him as two giant winged figures passed swiftly overhead, brushing the party below in a great wind.  
  
"Hail Eagles!" shouted the King mightily, and the birds turned about sharply in the air. They flew directly towards the King, then stopped abruptly and sank to the ground, ruffling their shining feathers.  
  
"You are searching for two hobbits, I presume," said the largest Eagle.  
  
"Yes, we are, and I."  
  
"Fear not. We have been sent by the wizard Gandalf to transport them to the Shire. Your efforts are no longer necessary, for we have seen them on the road ahead. Gandalf bade me tell you to return to Gondor. The hobbits are in good wings."  
  
"Thank you, Gawihir," said Aragorn with a bow. "Your help is greatly appreciated."  
  
The two eagles leapt into the sky and the search party reversed its steps, much more light of heart than when they had come.  
  
~*~  
  
True to his word, two days later the hobbits arrived in the Shire. It was evening, and the sun was setting when Frodo spied the first gently rolling hills.  
  
"Sam!" he cried enthusiastically. "We're here!"  
  
Sam smiled back as he watched their homeland spread before them.  
  
They flew over the South Farthing with its many farms and fields, soared over Tookland, watching the lights in the smials twinkle on, and crossed the Water on into Hobbiton, always circling lower and lower to the ground. The eagles knew if they deposited their small burdens in plain view, it would cause quite a commotion, so they set them down in a small field on the outskirts of Hobbiton and bade them farewell before soaring off again into the night.  
  
Frodo and Sam stood quietly on shaky legs as they watched the eagles disappear, Frodo disappointed and regretful that they had to leave so soon, Sam giving thanks for finally being on the ground again.  
  
"Well, Mr. Frodo," said Sam as he surveyed the darkening beauty around him. "We're back!"  
  
Frodo nodded silently, too overcome by emotion to say anything. This was his home, unscathed by evil, preserved from witnessing the horrors of the outside world. He finally was home.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, seeing his hesitancy. "We should be gettin' back, sir. The chilly night air don't do no good to one's bones, is what my gaffer always says."  
  
Frodo smiled to himself at the sudden return of familiarity, and the two hobbits started for home.  
  
~To be continued!~ 


	18. Familiarity

Chapter 18 Familiarity Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
**** In honor of my 16th birthday on November 12, I post!! In traditional hobbit-fashion, I give all my wonderful reviewers a present.an update! On BOTH of my stories! If you haven't checked out The Night of a Thousand Stars, go read it! ****  
  
Yellowrose: I couldn't' end the story that fast! There's more drama and angst coming.  
  
Linriel: No, your last review wasn't cruel. The tea is gone, either all used up or left behind. We won't be seeing it again.  
  
Arwen Baggins: Frodo never sold Bag End to the Sackville-Bagginses. I wasn't intending on bringing them into the story, but I think I could. We'll see.  
  
Iorhael: No, I couldn't stand keeping you guys waiting for so long! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Eileen: I'm of German ancestry. Is English your second language? Just wondering. I know English is required to take in Europe, and I know a few German exchange students. Anyways, thanks for reviewing!  
  
Bookworm2000: Yes, I like them better as friends too. Which is why they have to resolve this issue somehow!  
  
Lily: Pretty birds! Pretty birds! (sorry, I have birds so I say that whenever I see a bird) The eagles seem to pop out of nowhere, and they saved my story! Whoopee!  
  
AranelMaethlang: Sorry that I can't update more frequently. I really wish I could. Hope you don't desert my stories for good! *tear*  
  
Endymion02: Oo hoo hoo, I have more in store. Not a lot more, sorry. I hope to finish this up soon. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Bandosax: Yeah, the bigger the band the sloppier the marching. Our band only has 81 people, not including CG. I'll write more later, g2g post! Whoppee!  
  
Last time: Merry, Pippin, Legolas, and Gimli set out from Rivendell, Sam and Frodo arrived back in the Shire, and the guide is now in safe hands.  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
Frodo followed Sam closely as they made their way slowly up the abandoned path to the round green door of Bag End. It was strange, coming home after all he had been through. Everything was different somehow, changed.  
  
'No, it is I who have changed,' Frodo thought to himself as Sam's fingers searched the top of the doorframe for the hidden spare key.  
  
"Here it is!" Sam exclaimed cheerfully, dusting it off on his trouser legs and inserting it into the key hole. He pushed open the door with a soft creek, and held it wide for Frodo to enter. Frodo stepped forward, but as he was about to enter, he stopped.  
  
"After you," he said softly, remembering with shame his self-inflicted oath in Gondor. Sam shrugged but stepped inside, Frodo on his footsteps trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.  
  
The dark air was musty inside, carrying the cold unfamiliarity of many months spent without a soul to protect and harbor. The unnatural chill of the smial cut to Frodo's bones and he hugged himself for warmth.  
  
"I'll have a fire started up in the kitchen right quick Mr. Frodo," came Sam's voice from down the dim hall.  
  
Left alone, Frodo groaned silently and rolled his head back.  
  
'Oh Sam,' he moaned to himself, 'Why can't you remember? If you knew what I had done to you...how can I help you remember? Or should I? No, yes! I must! I must pay dearly for my crime of disloyalty. You must repay the evil I inflicted. I must suffer, and there is no other way. I must tell you.'  
  
Frodo clenched his fists and wiped angrily at the hot tears threatening to leak from his glistening eyes. A faint glow down the hall betrayed Sam's success in the kitchen, and Frodo started towards it slowly, with terribly reluctant steps, each one of which was anguish.  
  
~  
  
Sam hummed quietly to himself as he took stock of what was left in the deserted kitchen. Upon finding nothing edible, he was about to venture into the cellar when hesitant steps behind him caught his sharp ear.  
  
"I'm goin' down to the cellar Mr. Frodo. There ain't nothin' to eat in here, nothin' that's any good that is. Everything's all spoilt since you've been away so long, and..."  
  
"Sam.." Something in Frodo's voice froze Sam in his tracks. He spun around worriedly, knowing by the solemnity of his friend's tone that something was dreadfully wrong.  
  
"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" Sam gasped upon seeing his master's face illuminated dully by the firelight. Without warning, Frodo sank to his knees and cowered at Sam's feet.  
  
"Forgive me, sir," he begged, hiding his face in his hands. Sam knelt beside him and tried to raise him up.  
  
"What's wrong, sir? Please tell me!"  
  
"No!" Frodo almost shouted. "Please don't call me that. I'm not worthy to be called 'sir' or 'mister.' I'm a terrible wretch."  
  
Sam's mind spun as he attempted to comfort his distraught master. What on middle earth was wrong with him? Had the madness returned? Sam had a sudden horrifying suspicion that it was so.  
  
"Now, now," he cooed as he wrapped his arms around Frodo's shoulders. "You're a great many things, and a terrible wretch ain't one of them."  
  
Frodo ducked out of Sam's embrace and scooted back across the floor.  
  
"You don't remember," he said softly. "You don't remember what I did to you."  
  
Now Sam was thoroughly puzzled.  
  
"What did you do to me?" he asked, knowing that whatever lie was tormenting his friend couldn't possibly be true. Perhaps by letting the burden off his shoulders would help him return to the Frodo he knew.  
  
Frodo glanced up at Sam, anguish all over his face.  
  
'Oh why can't you remember?' he groaned to himself. 'Why must I be the one to tell you?'  
  
"Sam," he began, but his throat constricted and he swallowed, attempting to speak again. "In Minas Tirith, in the dungeons, don't you remember them?"  
  
Frodo saw Sam's eyes light up.  
  
"Now I do!" He said, and began searching his mind for a memory of what had happened there.  
  
Suddenly, a loud knock at the front door interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"It's your Gaffer, Sam," said Frodo quietly, rising from the floor. "They've seen the smoke coming from the chimney. Your family will want to know you're safe."  
  
"But what about you, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam, hesitating between family and friend.  
  
"Go to them, Sam," said Frodo, and he backed out of the room into the black emptiness of the hallway, disappearing into the dark.  
  
With a sigh, Sam headed towards the front door.  
  
~*~  
  
"There it is!" exclaimed Pippin, rising excitedly in the stirrups. "It's the Shire!"  
  
He spurred his pony to a gallop and, Merry at his heels, began racing down the last length of road.  
  
"We're home!" He shouted, the wind throwing his words back into his face. "We're home! Come on Merry, you slow poke! The Shire's waiting!"  
  
Further back along the road, Legolas chuckled fondly to himself.  
  
"Hobbits are delightful creatures," he commented over his shoulder to Gimli.  
  
"Aye, that they are Master Elf," the dwarf replied mirthfully. "'Tis a pitty we didn't take the time to learn their ways better before the War."  
  
Legolas nodded in agreement and resumed breathing in the crisp morning air.  
  
"There is great life in the Shire," he said. "I smell a richness and fertility unknown anywhere else. This land pulsates with growth as well as a refreshing simplicity, as do its inhabitants."  
  
He brought his horse to a trot and soon was caught up with the two breathless hobbits waiting for them at a small bridge under which ran a deep river. Their eyes were shining and impatient as they waited for the bigger folks.  
  
"Once we cross the bridge we'll be in my homeland, Buckland," said Merry proudly. "We can stay for a few days at Brandyhall, then journey on to Tookborough."  
  
"Then you'll meet my family," rushed Pippin. "And you can compare the hospitality of the Tooks against the Brandybucks. However, I think you'll find my home much more inviting."  
  
"Do you presume to say Brandyhall dosen't offer good hospitality?" interrupted Merry indigenously. Pippin mocked a face of shock.  
  
"Why no, my good hobbit. I'm only daring to mention that compared to the Tooks, the Brandybucks' hospitality is as of that of a commoner."  
  
"Oh you do, do you?" replied Merry with a low voice. The elf and the dwarf knew from experience that a bramble was about to occur, and Gimli spoke up abruptly.  
  
"We'll decide for ourselves whether or not the hospitality of the Tooks or Brandybucks compares with the hospitality of Bag End."  
  
At the mention of Bag End, both Merry and Pippin grew somber. The same two hobbits were on the minds of everyone present.  
  
"Very well, Master Gimli," said Merry with a nod, "After Tookland we'll visit Bag End, as was planned, and visit Frodo and Sam. Then you can decide whose hospitality is the best."  
  
~*~  
  
Sam was wandering down a dark passageway, looking for something, or someone. Suddenly, he found himself in front of a barred, chained door. Groans were coming from inside. He stood on his tiptoes to reach the window, but it was too high. He was in distress. Whoever he was searching for was on the other side of that door, in pain. He rammed his shoulder against the door and it gave way like water.  
  
Inside the cell, curled up in a ball on the floor, was Frodo. Sam reached out to touch him, but suddenly he saw himself as a barbaric traitor, hungry for blood. He gasped and jerked away, doubling over in shame.  
  
He had deserted his master. He had left him to his fate. He was a traitor. And Frodo would die because of him.  
  
The scene changed. Now he was in Frodo's room. He was standing over a deathly pale figure lying on a bed that was too big for him, face nearly matching the sheets. There was something familiar about that face contorted with pain. The agonized eyes slowly opened and stared into Sam, piercing the depths of his soul. The colorless lips parted.  
  
"Traitor."  
  
Then the blue eyes closed, the lips sealed shut, and Frodo was dead.  
  
"NOO!" screamed Sam. "Frodo! NO!"  
  
He snapped awake, breathing hard and staring into the blackness of his room.  
  
"It wasn't a dream. It was a memory!" he told himself. "A memory!"  
  
Sam hung his head in shame, remembering suddenly Minas Tirith and how he had so easily deserted his beloved Frodo to the horrors of the wretched cell. He buried his head in his pillow and watched the moon-shadow of his window trail slowly across the floor until he fell once more into a fitful sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo sat in Bilbo's old chair by the round brick-encircled fireplace in the study, staring with unseeing eyes into the dying flames. The image of Sam's torn back seemed to be traced in the dance the flickering flames made as they flowed about the cracking wood. Lines of red..orange...blue flames, the color of veins, the color of his bruises.  
  
CRACK! A log snapped in half, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. Crack! The sound of a whip striking innocent flesh. Shadows dancing on the walls, the torturer's shadow he cast as the torch in the dungeon witnessed the scene. The light from the fireplace illuminated the blood- red beverage in a tall wine bottle, winking golden circles in the liquid blinking at him knowingly.  
  
Frodo got up slowly and took up the bottle, popping off the cork. He poured himself a glass and drained it, nearly choking halfway on the image of Sam giving him the last of the water in the water skin on the ashen road to Mordor.  
  
Shaking, he headed back to the chair, taking the bottle with him. He had never been a heavy drinker, but that was about to change.  
  
~*~  
  
It was ten o' clock before Sam mustered up enough courage to knock on the door of Bag End.  
  
"Apologize," he muttered to himself. "Hmph. An apology ain't what he deserves. There's no way I can ever make this up to him. He'll just have to forgive me, ninnyhammer that I am. He'll understand, I hope."  
  
Sam stepped back and paced nervously, glancing at the door every so often. There was no response. Sam figured he must have slept late, and knocked again, harder this time.  
  
"He's probably makin' me wait on purpose. So that's what he was talkin' about when he asked me why I couldn't remember what happened in Minas Tirith! Well, I done remembered."  
  
Absentmindedly, he plucked a dead branch from the bushes growing by the front door and set it aside.  
  
"When things get back to normal I'll make Frodo the most beautiful garden Bag End has ever known!" Sam promised himself. A horrible thought crossed his mind. "What if he don't forgive me? What if he dismisses me? No, I shouldn't think like that! Mr. Frodo's a gentlehobbit, that's what he is! He knows what's to be done for sure. If only he would open this door..."  
  
Sam waited for a bit more before finally deciding to let himself in. All was still as death inside, and Sam felt a shudder run through his bones. Along with it came a gnawing dread that something was amiss.  
  
"Frodo!" he called, and shivered as his voice echoed through the still air. He made his way to the kitchen and found it exactly as it had been the night before.  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" he called again, more urgently this time. He quickened his footsteps as he explored one room after the other, all as empty and foreboding as the kitchen. His breath was coming short and panicked when he finally opened the door to the study, and found him.  
  
"Frodo!"  
  
He rushed to Bilbo's chair and shook his head at the nearly empty wine bottle. He gathered his master's unconscious body into his arms and padded softly down the hallway to the master bedroom, where he laid him gently on the bed.  
  
"You're goin' to have a sore head when you wake up," he said disapprovingly. "Why did you do it? I don't understand."  
  
Sam busied himself about the room, preparing for the sorry state Frodo would be in when he awoke. What troubles could Frodo have to drown them in alcohol? Was Sam the cause of them?  
  
"Oh!" He thought with a pang. "Perhaps he couldn't bear the thought that I was a traitor! Oh, what have I done?"  
  
Sam sat by Frodo's bedside and gently mopped his forehead with a damp cloth. A tear splashed on his pale face and Sam realized he was crying.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," he wept. "I didn't mean to be a traitor. I'm sorry. If you don't want to forgive me, I can understand, but please don't say that we're not friends anymore. I couldn't go on without you."  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo stumbled and fell to the ground, hot ash rising in a gray cloud all about him. He coughed violently and sneezed as it tickled his red nose and scratched his parched throat.  
  
"Sam," he croaked, and Sam was at his side in an instant. He brought out the water skin and unscrewed it, holding it to Frodo's lips. He drank only a sip before rasping harshly  
  
"You..Sam...drink..."  
  
Sam shook his head.  
  
"You need the water more than me," he said plainly, although his cracked, white-rimmed lips and dry breathing spoke otherwise. Frodo shook his head, but had finally encountered someone more stubborn than himself. Sam nearly shoved the water skin in his face, and Frodo reluctantly took another sip.  
  
Although the water would have seemed oily and bitter to one well fed and well hydrated, to the two hobbits in the middle of a barren, ashen wasteland, it was as refreshing and cool as the most appealing spring.  
  
Sam sat down and wearily took off his pack, digging through it until he found the last of the lembas.  
  
"Here," he said shortly, thrusting the flakes into Frodo's scraped hands. "Eat."  
  
Too tired to argue any further, Frodo obediently took the food and chewed it slowly. Sam turned his face away and resumed rummaging through his pack, looking for something that wasn't there.  
  
After a short rest, Frodo dragged himself to his knees and tried to get up. But the heavy chain mail of the orcs and his solid iron shield weighed him down into the dust.  
  
"It's too heavy, Sam," he explained. "I don't suppose we'll need armor anymore, where we're going."  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
"Very well then, off it comes and into a pit."  
  
Frodo gratefully removed the burdensome attire and dragged it to on of the gaping fissures opening in the landscape. He tossed them inside and didn't bother to watch them as they fell to who knows what end.  
  
He turned and saw Sam standing beside him. He had already tossed in his armor, and was now clutching his precious pans.  
  
"Sam..." began Frodo, but suddenly Sam let go and a muffled clink clang clunk was heard as they hit on their way down. Sam winced at every sound, and when no more were heard he turned away.  
  
"Well, let's be on our way then," he said in mock cheerfulness. He hefted up his now lighter pack and the two resumed their trek southwards. Yet as they passed the pit where Sam's pans had met their doom, Frodo felt a stab of guilt that Sam should have to sacrifice more, when he had willingly given so much already.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam was awakened from a little nap by a groan from Frodo's bed.  
  
"Here we go," he muttered under his breath, and reached for the damp cloth.  
  
"Shh," he soothed as he wiped the sweat from Frodo's forehead. "Sam's here, you're goin' to be right as rain."  
  
Frodo's crusty eyelids blinked open painfully and focused on Sam's face.  
  
"What happened?" he asked.  
  
"You had too much wine, sir." Sam decided it was best not to beat around the bush. Frodo nodded.  
  
"Thank you, Sam," he said, and promptly went back to sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
It was late at night when Sam returned home after his tiring day of nursing the inebriated hobbit back to health. He hoped he would never have to suffer through that again, or Frodo's bowels neither.  
  
He slowly changed into his night shift and collapsed on his bed, dead tired. He barely had the strength to pull the covers over him before he drifted into a dream filled sleep.  
  
~  
  
Sam was sitting beside Frodo at a long table heaped with enormous amounts of food. He was in a great hall filled with countless Men, and they appeared to be celebrating something. He didn't have time to remember, for suddenly he was knocked off his chair and landed flat on his back, with the eyes of a madman staring into his.  
  
With a heave of his shoulders, Sam was free and he leapt to his feet to face the foe. It took him a moment to realize the madman's anguished face was familiar.  
  
"Frodo?" he gasped.  
  
"Help me, Sam," Frodo begged, clinging to Sam's arms. "Help me. They've come for me!" His fingers dug into Sam's arm, and he tried to pry himself free. "Show me the way out! I need to get away!" He gasped and his eyes flew frantically around the room. "Out! How do I get out?"  
  
Sam didn't know what to do. He glanced helplessly towards the High Table where the King sat, and caught a brief glimpse of him hurrying out of his chair before Frodo suddenly leapt at him again.  
  
They rolled around on the floor, Frodo clawing for Sam's neck and Sam just trying to protect himself. A loud crash somewhere caused distracted the mad hobbit for a second, and Sam took that opportunity to kick off his attacker and scramble to his feet.  
  
"Run!" someone shouted, and Sam turned tail, running for all he was worth. He dodged chairs and legs, leaping and glancing behind him to see if his pursuer was still chasing him.  
  
His mind was a mixture of confusion and desperation. What was happening? Why was he being chased?  
  
"Let me out!" Frodo roared, bounding clumsily after his prey.  
  
Around the corner of the table Sam dashed, shouts and cries of "Guards!" sounding to the left and right. A sudden clash of metal behind him told of Frodo's capture. Sam stopped abruptly in his tracks and spun around, panting for breath.  
  
"Sam!" cried Frodo as he was hauled kicking and fighting from the banquet hall. "Sam!"  
  
Frodo raised his face one last time before disappearing through the doors, and their eyes locked. Frodo's face was contorted with pain, and his eyes pleaded for escape, but there was none.  
  
"No.." whispered Sam, but his protest died on his lips.  
  
"Sam!" came one last strangled cry, and then the doors shut behind him with a dull thud and he was gone.  
  
~To be continued!~  
  
Please review! 


	19. The Nature of Forgiveness

Chapter 19 The Nature of Forgiveness Of the Aberration of a Hobbit  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.  
  
ANYBODY WHO LIKES FRODO ANGST check out heartofahobbit's story Gift of the Valar, finally complete!  
  
Thank you so much to all my reviewers who reviewed!! ; )  
  
Linriel: You're welcome for updating! And heeeeeere it is....  
  
Lily: Hmmm, a little uncomfy with the whole altar thing....but I get the point. Hope you like this chappie as much as the last.....  
  
Bookworm2000: I've had my classmates stare at me a few times. On Halloween I dressed up as Frodo and my best bud was Sam, and our other friend was Nazgul, and we did a little play thing for my English class. they asked us to do it again. It was great.  
  
Arwen Baggins: Thanks for being so faithful to review! Yeah, poor guilt- racked Frodo and Sam. Lots of Angst and drama in this chappie.  
  
AranelMaethlang: Yes, I have been writing to work on my style. The end of this chapter is probably not as good as I could have made it, cause I had to write it while I had the *urge* J/K, while I was motivated-at 10 pm. *yawns* good night  
  
Iorhael: Thanks for being so faithful! Hope to see more of u in the future! I left a note at the bottom of this chappie, please check it out.  
  
Endymion02: yeah for the Germans! That's cool about your daughter. This chapter should clear up the amnesia thing...I hope. If it dosen't please tell me and I'll fix it!  
  
Yahiko: If I updated whenever I felt like it, the story would be LONG finished by now. I agree with you though. The wait is the worst part. Ah well, lesson in patience.  
  
Bandosax15: Oh goodie, I'm glad it ties down the story. I hope this chapter concludes it well enough.  
  
Eileen: I have a friend who like to learn a bunch of languages too. She took my German class with me, and is taking French and Japanese. Same with my German teacher. Fluent in three languages and learning two more. There's a guy with no life J/K.  
  
Last time: Eh, a few 'dreams,' Merry and Pippin are back.....hmmm, you read the last chapter. Why should I bother?  
  
~~~~*~~~~  
  
A cold, dry wind rattled the dry vines and bushes in the dead garden of Bag End, spinning a flurry of brown leaves across the ground. The gray sky pressed down on the earth, warning of a magnificent storm just ahead. A faint rumble sounded somewhere over the green hills, rolling and pulsating, growling lowly with hunger. A branch snapped on the aged oak tree atop the smial and plunged downward with a dying crash, waking a stone- cut figure from his motionless revere.  
  
Frodo heard the crash, but paid little head to it. Instead, he let the bitter wind tangle his dark curls and penetrate his numbing body. Today was the day.  
  
Slowly, he turned toward the side of the hill and began climbing, using the protruding roots and stones as handholds and footholds, familiar with their placement from long practice. Panting, at last he reached the top and ran his stiff fingers over the fallen oak branch.  
  
'Sam will want to use this for firewood,' he thought absentmindedly, and lifted his gaze to survey his long-forsaken homeland.  
  
The smooth green hills lay in gentle waves as far as the eye could see, peppered with clusters of trees and criss-crossed with bright yellow roads. There lay Bywater pool, that flat gray disc sitting like a turtle shell among the sand. Little red brick chimneys sprouted from many a smial, leaking smoke into the gray air. And over all hung the deep, impenetrable peace and simplicity so taken for granted by the fortunate hobbits.  
  
Their ancestors had certainly chosen a capital spot to call their homeland, those thousands of years ago. Although there were no great palaces and statues to mark brave battles and heroes, the Shire carried an endurance of its own, of which there was no need for memorials. It was the hobbits themselves. They bore the traditions and stories, legends and myths down from generation to generation, passing on the Shire to their children and grandchildren. And they would always do so.  
  
Tears came to Frodo's eyes as he realized how close the Shire had come to being snuffed out.  
  
'All this beauty, my people, everything would have been gone, hadn't it been for Smeagol,' he thought, hanging his head in shame at his failure. 'I didn't save the Shire, he did. Sam did. And for me the Shire wasn't saved.'  
  
~*~  
  
Legolas glanced warily up at the clouds overhead, a frown deepening across his fair face.  
  
"I'm afraid a storm will unleash at dusk," he said to the anxious Pippin, whose mouth was full of half a biscuit.  
  
"But that means......"  
  
"Yes, it means we must stay another night in your gracious.....hole." He still was not quite accustomed to the strange traditions of hobbits.  
  
Pippin grinned broadly from ear to ear and nearly leapt into the air.  
  
"Ha!" he cried, pointing at his cousin. "An elf and a dwarf get to stay for *three* nights in my home while they only spent one at yours!"  
  
Merry crossed his arms and put on a stern, yet flustered face. He was tempted to stick out his tongue, but thought better of it and withheld his indignation. Perhaps he could pull a prank on Pippin tonight to make up for his jeering comment.  
  
Pippin dashed back into the luxurious smial to relate the good news, and Legolas sat down beside Gimli and pulled out his pipe.  
  
"It will be a violent storm," he said vaguely, and the dwarf nodded, barely paying attention.  
  
"Yet the one I fear most will not occur above."  
  
Gimli sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Speak not in riddles, master elf."  
  
"Two friends will meet, a misunderstanding between them. It is the outcome I am concerned about."  
  
"Ah, you speak of Frodo and Sam."  
  
"Perhaps. It is not clear. However, when we last saw them, I felt a new, unfamiliar tension in the atmosphere. I am warned in my heart to stay here tonight."  
  
Gimli nodded in understanding and puckered his lips, blowing a graceful ring.  
  
"Ah ha!" he cried, slapping his thigh, "Beat that!"  
  
The Prince grinned and blew a long stream that snaked out and touched the edge of Gimli's ring, breaking it in half.  
  
"Well of all the confounded....."  
  
"Excuse me, ...sirs?" A tiny voice behind them barely reached Gimli's red ears.  
  
"Well hello there little one," greeted the dwarf, inviting the hobbit child closer. Her brown eyes were wide with curiosity as she stared at the new comers with fascination.  
  
"My name's Daffodil, but you can call me Daffy," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "Are you really from a mountain?"  
  
"Yes I am," replied the flabbergasted dwarf. He had never met a hobbit with more courage than this little one. SO far, every single adult he and Legolas had met treated them with suspicion and distance, but were courteous just the same.  
  
"What's your name?" Daffy asked.  
  
"I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood," replied the elf regally, and her eyes widened with delight.  
  
"You're a *prince*?" she exclaimed. "Hey, come on out! They're very nice!" Her cry rang shrilly behind the foreigners and they soon found themselves engulfed in a mass of hobbit children, wide-eyed and brimming with simple questions.  
  
Merry stopped Pippin's charge with a well-placed restraining arm, and put a finger to his lips.  
  
"Don't lets disturb them," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "The stately prince and proud dwarf overwhelmed by little children is much too priceless a scene to interrupt!"  
  
~*~  
  
Sam twisted a string around and around his finger while he waited for Rosie to respond. A silence heavy as the air hung between them at the close of Sam's tale, and he sighed wearily.  
  
"What should I do?" he asked forlornly, and she put a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Tell him the truth," she said, and looked him squarely in the eye. "If you lied to him, or yourself, it would break your friendship beyond the point of repair. He's a noble hobbit, that Frodo Baggins."  
  
Sam nodded and then nearly wailed  
  
"But sometimes he's too noble for his own good! He's goin' to insist that I never did these terrible things, and won't accept no apology!" He hung his head in his hands. "How can I make him understand?"  
  
"You can't." Rosie took both of his strong hands in hers and said clearly "Forgiveness is something more than words can say, a simple 'I'm sorry' and 'I forgive you.' When he understands, you'll know."  
  
Sam stood up slowly, resolve strengthening his limbs.  
  
"Thank you, Rose," he said tenderly. "You always seem to have the right words fer the right occasion."  
  
She smiled, a cheerful, heart-warming smile that suddenly made him want to pick her up and twirl her around. He grinned back and bounded down the garden pathway in the direction of Bag End.  
  
~  
  
It was late in the afternoon when Sam finally arrived at the front door. His courage had steadily dwindled from the time hours ago when he left Rosie. A trip which should have brought him here in half and hour had taken four. Sam shook his head, took a breath, and was about to knock on the door when something stopped him.  
  
"He's not in there," he said softly to himself, and headed up the hill.  
  
~*~  
  
"So it begins."  
  
Aragorn turned from the window where he was looking out at the city below and faced his friend.  
  
"And the outcome?" he asked Gandalf, but the wizard only shook his head.  
  
"That is not revealed to me. A resolution I see, but the nature of it I cannot tell."  
  
He put a comforting hand on the King's shoulder.  
  
"Trouble not yourself over Frodo and Sam. What does your knowledge of their friendship tell you?"  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes and began to speak.  
  
*"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."  
  
Aragorn's worry-lined face broke into a toothy, relieved smile.  
  
"Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."  
  
"Love never fails."  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo was startled from his thoughts by a light footfall on the grass behind him.  
  
'Not now,' he groaned to himself. 'I'm not ready. Not yet.'  
  
Sam didn't say a word, he just eased himself down on the grass beside Frodo and assumed his manner, staring out at the bleary landscape before him.  
  
'He must have noticed I 'forgot' my cloak,' Frodo thought to himself, and silently thanked Sam for saying nothing of it. He waited patiently for Sam to speak, all the while contemplating how he would explain.  
  
'He won't understand how I could be so cruel, after all he's done. But what will he say? What will he *do?*'  
  
Frodo, tired of waiting, prepared himself for the worst and took a deep breath.  
  
"Sam...."  
  
"Frodo...."  
  
They both spoke at once and blushed.  
  
"You go first, Sam."  
  
"No, you can."  
  
"I insist."  
  
Sam sighed.  
  
"You won't be wantin' to hear what I've got to say."  
  
"Neither will you."  
  
They both fell silent again, with only the sound of the increasing wind ringing in their ears. Finally Frodo broke the mood.  
  
"I don't suppose you remember what happened in Minas Tirith," he began, and Sam felt his ears burning red.  
  
'Now you're in for it,' he told himself. 'He's goin' to tell you about how you betrayed him...'  
  
"And I'm sure you don't remember how I.....betrayed you."  
  
Sam pricked up his ears and looked at Frodo quizzically.  
  
"Me?" he nearly laughed. "But surely you must remember how *I* betrayed *you*."  
  
Now it was Frodo's turn to be shocked. What was Sam speaking of?  
  
"But Sam, I....."  
  
"Let me explain," Sam said firmly. He cleared his throat nervously and began. "When you were in the dungeons, I never came to see you because....I was....angry because you hit me....when you were mad." He added the last phrase quickly because of the blood draining from Frodo's face.  
  
"Sam, I'm sorry," he said softly, and bit his lip.  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Sam comforted. "You were havin' one of your fits, and I was in the wrong place! I should have realized you didn't know what you were doin' but I was still fumin' over from being chased around the banquet hall, after all."  
  
"I didn't...."  
  
"And if I hadn't been such a ninnyhammer you wouldn't have gotten sick and nearly died. See? It's all my fault! I abandoned you..."  
  
"Sam, no!"  
  
"...and left you in the care of that horrible man and those guards who beat you, you! The Ringbearer and savior of Middle Earth!"  
  
"I'm not the savior...."  
  
"I told Gandalf I'd never leave you, and I did! I abandoned you and you nearly died because of my pride!"  
  
At last Sam fell silent and waited morosely for Frodo's reaction.  
  
"Sam, that's not true."  
  
Sam sighed.  
  
"I knew you'd say that," he mumbled.  
  
"Sam, I'm the traitor!"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and was about to speak when Frodo held up a hand and the words died in his mouth. He had never seen Frodo's eyes burn with such intensity as they did now.  
  
"Don't you remember, Samwise? I beat you! I kicked you in my room and dragged you down to the dungeons and had you flogged until the man's arm tired, then *I* took over! I beat you! After all you went through for me, I tortured you until you fainted! Can't you see I'm the traitor? Not you, Sam. Me."  
  
Sam shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"No, it's not possible," he said.  
  
"Yes, it is. Feel the scars on your back."  
  
In a stupor, Sam reached under his shirt and felt the skin on his back. True enough, long raised scars raked cruelly across his skin, and he let his hand fall slowly. It couldn't be. Frodo would never, never lift a finger to hurt Sam intentionally. Yet the scars burned.  
  
"But...."  
  
A soft drizzle began to fall, and Frodo buried his head in his hands.  
  
"I know. I would never whip you, yet I did. I wasn't mad, I was angry. I was upset that you had 'abandoned' me. Of course you would never do such a thing...."  
  
"But I did!"  
  
"NO! Sam....listen to me! I am the traitor! Why else do you think I'm your servant now? Don't you remember? I was sorry for what I did, so I became your servant. And I still am."  
  
"What?" Sam would have laughed had the situation been less serious. "You, my servant?"  
  
Frodo nodded, and realization slowly dawned on Sam as the drizzle became a light shower. The world was covered in the misty blanket of gray rain, and all the two hobbits could discern clearly was each other, the tiny pearls of water hanging from the ends of their hair and settling precariously on the brink of their eyelashes.  
  
Then Sam began to remember.  
  
~  
  
"Did you say you wanted me to be there?" Frodo asked, shaking Sam. The only thing he could do was nod. Frodo slowly released him, allowing Sam time to back away.  
  
"Mister Frodo...." He began, but was rudely interrupted.  
  
"It's *Master* Frodo," Frodo hissed, and grabbed him again, this time by the arm. "Don't you know your place? Answer me!"  
  
"Y...yes," Sam gasped, and Frodo slapped him, hard.  
  
"And what is it?" He yelled.  
  
"I'm your gardener," Sam croaked, tears beginning to form behind his eyes.  
  
"Crying, are you, Sam?" Frodo mocked, an evil light in his eyes. "I'll give you something to cry about!" And he threw him to the floor.  
  
Sam backed up, his eyes wide with terror as Frodo advanced. He stopped suddenly, his back against the wall. Now there was no escape. Frodo grabbed him by his collar and hauled him to his feet, slamming him against the wall so hard his teeth chattered in his skull.  
  
"My gardener should learn his place," Frodo said in a low voice. "Since he doesn't know it, he'll have to learn the hard way."  
  
"Please, Frodo," begged Sam, a request only earning him another hard slap, and another backhanded across his other cheek. Frodo ground Sam's shoulders into the wall hissing  
  
"What did you do to me?"  
  
"I...don't know...." Broke Sam, his voice catching in his throat.  
  
"Yes you do!" Frodo pulled back his fist and drove it hard into Sam's stomach, causing his breath to rush out of his lungs with a loud whoosh! He would have doubled over, but he was still being held against the wall. He shut his eyes against the pain and tried to focus on something, anything else.  
  
"You know what you did to me, traitor!" said Frodo. "Tell me, what was it?"  
  
Sam was still trying to catch his breath and wasn't able to answer right away. He was struck across the face again, this time with Frodo's fist.  
  
"I...I left you..." Sam panted, and a slow smile spread across his master's distorted features.  
  
"Yes, that's right. And where did you leave me?"  
  
"In the dungeon."  
  
"Right again," Frodo said. "You're catching on fast, Samwise."  
  
Sam wrenched himself away from Frodo's grasp, and with a cry of fury his master sprang after him. Sam tried to leap away, but somehow Frodo was faster. He caught him by the shoulder and spun him around, shoving him to the ground.  
  
"Don't you dare try and run away from me again!" he roared, kicking Sam in the shin.  
  
"I'm sorry..." gasped Sam as he tried to back away. His retreat earned him a volley of kicks and blows from his master, accompanied by names.  
  
"Traitor! Liar! Dog!" The words stung more painfully than the throbbing bruises. Sam didn't know how long he could hold out. All he could do was curl up in a ball and try to protect his head, which of course left a whole new side exposed.  
  
"Stop, please stop!" He begged at last, and magically the rain of torment ceased.  
  
"I have stopped," said Frodo sweetly, dragging Sam to his feet by the hair. "I'll let someone else finish the lesson for me."  
  
~  
  
"No..." Sam whispered in disbelief, tears streaking down his wet face. He clutched his head in his hands, trying in vain to stop the memories from coming. But once they started, they didn't bother to stop.  
  
~  
  
Frodo grabbed Sam by the arm and marched him, stumbling through the darkened corridor lit by an occasional torch flickering dimly on the soot- blackened wall. Sam was seeing spots before his eyes by the time they reached their destination.  
  
"Welcome, welcome," said the hooded figure who let them in to the dungeon. "What may I do for you?"  
  
Frodo shook Sam roughly.  
  
"I have a traitor here who needs to be taught a lesson. Unfortunately I have not the tools with which to deal it out."  
  
"I have just the thing," said the man with a cruel laugh. "Follow me."  
  
He grabbed a torch and led the two deeper into the tunnels and passageways underneath the earth, unlocking a cell door and herding them inside.  
  
"This is just the place," he advertised with t flourish. "Far enough away that his cries won't be heard, and close enough to be able to carry him out when he's unconscious."  
  
Sam's eyes widened in horror as the man held his arms while Frodo removed his vest, then his shirt, exposing his bare back and chest to the torch light.  
  
"No!" He whispered as the man tied his hands together, threading the end of the rope through a large loop hanging from the ceiling.  
  
Then the man pulled a long, black snake from the folds of his cloak and cracked it sharply in the air. Frodo stepped back and folded his arms, apparently watching the scene with pleasure. He nodded to the man, and the torture began.  
  
One, two, three the whip slashed across Sam's naked back, burning it with fire and scaring his soul with shame. He had never known such pain before, such searing awful pain. And Frodo was letting it happen. He was actually enjoying watching his best friend be tortured. He, the loving master Sam had known in the Shire, had sentenced Sam to this atrocity.  
  
Sam threw his head back and screamed, not so much from the agony of body, but from the breaking of his gentle heart. And the whip gouged on, sending red blood coursing freely from the raw wounds.  
  
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Sam gasped for air. He didn't know how long he would remain conscious. The man stopped, apparently his arm was tired, and Sam sagged against the rope holding his arms high. The tears were flowing hotly from Sam's burning eyes. He wanted nothing more than to hide. He was so ashamed!  
  
'I'm finally getting what I deserve,' he thought bitterly. 'But I tried so hard to be a good servant! I thought I was doing the right thing.'  
  
"Hello Sam." Frodo tilted Sam's chin up, searching his face for something. Sam shifted his eyes to the floor, humiliated to the point where he could no longer look his sneering master in the eyes.  
  
"Ashamed?" Frodo asked evilly. "Good, you should be. Tell me, are you sorry for what you did?"  
  
"Yes!" Sam burst out. "I'm sorry!"  
  
"You're sorry, what?"  
  
Couldn't he understand? Sam knew Frodo was his master! Why did he need Sam to say it every time?  
  
Frodo held his hand out to the man and took the whip from him, cracking it once in the air for practice.  
  
"It seems you still haven't learned," he sighed, and flogged Sam across his already torn back.  
  
"I'm sorry, master!" Sam sobbed. This couldn't be happening. Not Frodo! Having him beaten was enough, but to do it himself? Sam was crying now, and still the whip scourged on.  
  
~  
  
Frodo watched Sam's darkening face with grim understanding. Sam was finally remembering. Now he would know what Frodo had been tortured with these past weeks. He would finally realize Frodo was the traitor, not him.  
  
He thought he had prepared himself for this moment, but seeing Sam suffer at the mere memory of the torture was too much. Sam couldn't go on knowing the barbarous acts of his 'master,' especially once he recalled how he had treated Frodo.  
  
"Now you know," Frodo said blankly, "why I am the traitor, and not you."  
  
Sam looked up at him through his tears, and the pain of betrayal behind those gentle brown eyes tore to Frodo's heart like no word could ever do. He remembered the tranquil years of quiet friendship they had spent together after Bilbo left, all those evenings sitting quietly beside the fireplace in Bag End while Frodo read and Sam whittled away on a carving. The countless sunsets they had watched together while serenely smoking their long pipes, laughing at their awkward attempts to blow smoke rings like the ones in Bilbo's stories.  
  
Then he remembered the loyalty Sam had showed him on the journey to Mordor, how Sam would rather drown than be left behind, how he carried him up the slopes of Mount Doom. All this in a moment was wrenched from Frodo's heart and hung wavering in the air, teasing his sanity, flashing such scenes before his eyes.  
  
'You destroyed it all,' he thought in anguish. 'He has every right to hate you now. You claim to be his friend. Look at his tears, look in his eyes. He doesn't deserve a traitorous friend like you. You don't deserve to live anymore, you wretched thing. He hates you, look! He can't even stand the sight of you anymore!'  
  
Indeed, Sam had turned his head away and was sobbing quietly, tearing harmlessly at his forehead as if to rip the memories away. Frodo knew he couldn't live knowing how he had destroyed Sam.  
  
Inside his shirt, tucked neatly away, Frodo grasped a cold wooden handle and slowly drew it forth into the pouring rain.  
  
~  
  
Sam wiped his eyes with his fist and prepared himself to face Frodo.  
  
'Even if he did beat me, he didn't mean it. He's sorry, sure thing! Sorry enough to.....'  
  
"NO! Frodo!"  
  
Sam leapt forward and struck the knife from Frodo's hand, sending it spinning away down the hill. It disappeared into the mist and was never seen again.  
  
He grasped Frodo's forearms and stared intently into his anguished face. He had never seen the face of a suicide before, and had had no desire to, but the event was upon him now, and the desperate features recoiling from his touch were none other than that of the hobbit he had followed into certain death.  
  
"Frodo," he sobbed, and caught him in a fierce embrace. His chin sank into the drenched curls on Frodo's neck and he rocked slowly back and forth in the rain. Suddenly, he found himself at a distance from his friend, and Frodo was gazing bewildered at his dripping features, searching for something.  
  
"Sam, I'm sorry," he choked. "I never meant any of it. But if you...."  
  
"No, I could never bear to be separated from you," Sam confessed, and smiled. "I thought you knew that a while ago."  
  
Frodo grinned sheepishly back, then his smile melted away.  
  
"Look at us, Sam, two silly hobbits sitting in the mud in the pouring rain, too confused to realize how wrong we both are."  
  
Sam chuckled.  
  
"Well, now we both know that we each feel guilty for the thing that caused the other one to feel guilty." He screwed his face up in thought. "It's all a little too bewilderin' for me."  
  
"It is for me too, Sam," said Frodo.  
  
They sat for a while in the gray rain and then Frodo stood, tilting his head back and opening his mouth to catch the raindrops.  
  
"I haven't done this in years," he said. "Bilbo, or you, always used to scold me if I went out for a minute in the rain without a cloak."  
  
"And I still would," replied Sam, trying to make his voice appear stern as he stood up, but failing miserably. "I suppose I could let ya get away with it today!"  
  
Frodo smiled and tilted his face up once more, loosing his balance a little and faltering a couple of steps. Sam instinctively reached out and grasped his hand to keep him from falling down the hill, and suddenly the two were whirling about in a circle in the rain, laughing. They spun and spun, watching the world go by in a gray and green blur until at last they collapsed panting on the slick grass.  
  
They lay on their backs with their faces turned upward towards the driving rain, watching as the little needles came shooting down from the heavens like millions of tiny arrows whizzing past.  
  
Frodo felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his chest. He was deliriously happy for the first time since he had left the Shire. Sam's forgiveness had cleared his mind of the darkness. It had healed the wounds of his heart, and mended him whole again. He was aware of nothing but a great, burning love for the strong, kind-hearted, compassionate hobbit beside him.  
  
He rose to his feet and held out his hand to the rain.  
  
"Look, Sam," he said. "The rain is stopping."  
  
Sam stood and nodded.  
  
"Yes, it is, Mister Frodo," he said, and their eyes locked.  
  
"Sam, I never, never meant anything I did.....I...."  
  
Sam put a finger to Frodo's lips.  
  
"I know," he whispered, blonde curls plastered to his forehead. "So do I."  
  
At that moment, the clouds parted overhead and the golden sun shot defiantly through, alighting on the hill atop Bag End. The two friends stood together in the growing patch of sunlight and watched as the warming brightness dispelled the dark, empty rain clouds from the renewed Shire, chasing away the gloom and doubt, replacing them with green, enduring tranquility.  
  
~The End~  
  
*from the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8  
  
***Should I write a sequel? I'm already in the process of writing two more stories, one of which *could* be turned into a sequel. Please let me know. 


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